


Husk of a Nord

by Flutterwacken



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Character Development, Companions disagree on what to do, Denial, Dragonborn Harbinger, Eventual Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hircine - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Torture, Multi, Psychological Torture, Silverhand involvement, Skyrim - Freeform, The Companions - Freeform, The companions take on a new whelp, The companions try to free and save a fellow werewolf, Things take a turn durring a mission, Werewolves, eventual Dark Brotherhood involvement, things dont go quite as planned, trying to help a stranger is harder than they thought, trying to smuggle a werewolf into whiterun is even harder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2018-04-12 22:45:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 79,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4497579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flutterwacken/pseuds/Flutterwacken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mountains lay frozen as dragons rule the skies and wolves lurk about unseen. Whiterun’s weathered warriors The Companions have been called to disband a group of poachers, though find themselves faced with a creature of their own design as they unwittingly set the beast free. Only a year after the Companions have lost their Kodlak, the new Harbinger is left to make the final choice. Will they kill the monster to prevent possible bloodshed, or with they take him unto their fold?</p><p>Follow the story of Husk, the burnt wolf of Hircine as he tears and claws his way into freedom and into the Silverhand's destruction</p><p>(Now includes chapter 13 to show off all of the fanart! Thanks again guys <3)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Find

**Author's Note:**

> This story was recently edited by two beta-readers, then fully rewritten after rotting in my computers hard drive for over 4 years. It already has 47,836 words written in its 7 chapters, though chapters will be uploaded every other day. If you spot any errors shoot a message my way and I'll correct it! 
> 
> Nudebeme drew Husk on request and did a fantastic job! If it wasn't for them I'm not sure i would have continued this! 
> 
> Picture is here: http://chac-ozai.tumblr.com/post/122918807576/i-fixed-my-tablet-so-a-while-back-an-anonymous

Jorrvaskr was buzzing with excitement as the party carried on. It was the first anniversary of Alduin’s defeat, giving reason to celebrate, and oh a grand celebration it was. The Companions were gathered in the main hall listening to their Harbinger tell the grand story. 

Elriah ElderGleam smiled proudly as he told of the killing blow that took down the world eater. The shine on the dragon’s scales as its soul was torn to pieces, to the cries of the fellow warriors were portrayed vividly by his words and envisioned in the minds of those who listened. 

Elriah was a younger Nord, whose features were framed well by long flaxen hair and the lightest beginnings of a beard, had once been a healer before becoming a warrior. Yet now after such feats and tasks of bravery was more than fitting of the name Dragonborn. Next to the Harbinger Farkas sat merrily, adding in his own tales of his blows and of how he had accompanied his husband into the fray at the guarded temple. 

Elriah smiled proudly as he continued his tale. 

“Sovengaurd sung when Alduin died, even the stone statues hummed. The mist was gone and I could finally see what Sovengaurd looked like. Mist made from starlight and heroes of yore stood tall about me carved forever into dragon bones and stone. From all the faces of those long passed, to the colors of the heavens above… All I will say is that it was more gorgeous and haunting than any song or poem could describe.” His eyes were distant and clouded with memory as he retold the story of Kodlak’s greeting, smiling slightly with scarred lips. 

Away from the hustle and bustle of the celebration, another Companion watched from a seat across from the main doorway, looking over the main festivities. Vilkas sat off to the side listening to the merry sounds about him. Farkas shot him a happy glance as he spotted his brother. Vilkas returned it half heartedly, though his eyes were still hard. 

Farkas’s smile grew, thinking that Vilkas was only trying to be gloomy to protect his image. 

Vilkas was a well built Nord similar to his brother, though was nowhere near as muscular. His hair was shorter and a scowl always adorned his face. The war paint around his eyes was dark and smudged; making him appear as if he had not slept. He sipped at his mead as his mind wandered; blocking out the sounds of the party. 

Jobs had slowed down and the Silverhand had not been heard from in months. Though that was a good thing his gut said otherwise. They were lying low in a cave somewhere no doubt, breeding like the skeevers they were. Vilkas was happy despite his angry appearance, yet felt dragged down from the lack of activity. While jobs were slim life did not grow to be boring, in fact numerous things had happened in the absence. 

Yet he still longed to be out on the road. 

Not only had his brother finally gotten married, to the Harbinger no less, but Skjor had finally fully recovered from his injuries he had gotten at Gallows rock.  
The Companions coffers were filled to the brim as well, allowing Jorrvaskr to be patched up and fix the various leaks in the roof; keeping in the warmth of the fire and the smells of feasting locked tightly inside. The smell of honeyed mead was strong around Vilkas, as well as the smell of sweetrolls and other sweet rations that were displayed along the extensive tables.

The sun was shining through the open windows as a light breeze accompanied the rays. It was a grand day with perfect weather that joyous hearts matched and filled to the brim. Light reflected off of the dust floating in the air; stirred by the happy movement of bodies dancing. 

As Vilkas looked about he saw his fellow companions rejoicing together. 

Aela was with a heavily scarred and drunken Skjor, his brother still with the Dragonborn as they spoke of battle, and Tovar had found interest in a newer female recruit he was trying to win over, although looked to be failing. Vilkas was not surprised to see Athis and Njada off to the side as well, throwing lazy drunken punches at each other. He was almost certain that it was their form of affection.

The pairs were smiling along with the rest of the companions and as time went on they began to tell stories of their valor as well. Tales were tossed about almost as much as the freshly filled mugs. Vilkas was happy for the companions and for the event they celebrated, yet he also felt ill as he watched. 

Though never alone among his fellow comrades, his beast was making him feel excluded. It had become a problem as it constantly attacked his thoughts. He thirsted for adventure and coin yet neither seemed to be any closer now than it had been a month ago. His beast howled nightly for the hunt. Vilkas had almost given in a few times, but he tried to stay strong. 

His ominous brooding was broken by a sudden slap against his back. 

Skjor smiled down at Vilkas before speaking, his voice slightly slurred from the several mugs of Ale and Mead. 

“Well nice to see you’re enjoying yourself! Quite a party these whelps can throw, eh?” 

Skjor laughed as Vilkas gave a half hearted grunt. Skjor pointed a finger at Vilkas as his rambling continued. 

“We’ve got a job if you want it. Some Trappers are poaching near an old Silverhand Fort, same one that almost did me in. Why don’t you go take care of that?” 

Skjor looked confused by his own words for a brief moment as he thought. 

“I mean the hunters, not the fort...though I guess it can be taken care of too if Elriah yelled at it, the magical bastard…anyways; you seem to have too much time on your hands if you can brood like this, on a good day no less! So why don’t you get out of our hair and go do something. Can’t have you all lazing about.” 

Skjor had tried to sound annoyed yet failed as a smile broke through the charade. Vilkas gave the elder a small smile in return before shaking his hand, accepting the job. Skjor let go of the hand before grabbing Vilkas’s shoulder, giving it a friendly, yet hearty shake. He sat next to Vilkas to down yet another filled cup. 

The two friends watched as Tovar began to dance in a drunken whirl. His arms flailed as well as his legs as he tried to dance. He was encouraged by the other Companions, some even clapping at his antics. Even the female he had tried to woo seemed to enjoy it as she pointed and laughed, encouraging him even more. As he picked up speed he began to get dizzy. 

Tovar began to trip over his own feet. Not even a moment later he wound up falling. But instead of falling onto the floor he fell back and onto Elriah, spilling the drink from his hands. 

Before anyone could react or even gasp, Elriah burst out laughing full heartedly. 

“I think that’s enough dancing for one day, Tovar! Best to stop while you’re ahead.” 

Elriah’s grinned as he helped the drunkard stand. Tovar could only nod and agree as he got up to retire to his room, stumbling the entire way. 

\---

An hour had passed and Aela had found her way to Vilkas and Skjor. She joined them, bringing them each a mug of mead. Vilkas took his mug with a nod of thanks; while Skjor took his and offered her a wink. Aela scoffed before taking a seat across from them. She took a sip of her own mead before resting her eyes on Vilkas. He seemed distant as he drank, his eyes dark with thought. She gave him a playful glance of curiosity. 

“So, how’s the moping going?” 

Vilkas ignored her and continued to sip the mead, though his eyes squinted.

“He won’t have time to mope now, I gave him a job,” Skjor mumbled into his mug. 

Vilkas nodded and continued as he watched the other Companions around him. They had begun a drinking game between Athis and Farkas, the prize being a new shield detailed finely by their blacksmith. 

Vilkas took a swig before speaking up. 

“I have to take care of some poachers, but I’ll admit that I’m not looking forward to being so close to the Silverhands old fort.”

Aela hummed in agreement. 

Farkas seemed to be winning the contest. Vilkas chuckled into his mead as he watched the antics. Athis was beginning to become ill from the drinking while Farkas was still going strong. 

“It’s been a while since any of us checked the area, and I’d rather not go alone in case any of the GrayFeet has the guts enough to show up.”  
It was the closest thing to humor Vilkas could muster, yet it seemed to do the trick as Skjor almost choked as he laughed mid drink. 

GrayFeet was the nickname they had lovingly given the Silverhand after a long night of heavy drinking, to their defense it had seemed funny at the time. The first Silverhand to hear the joke did not share the humor; though it was beyond entertaining once they realized said dunmer had grey feet. It was an incident that they agreed to never let Elriah hear of, knowing it would only prompt questions that did not have pleasant answers. One question being why a grey pair of feet had been left on the doorstep of the Elven embassy. 

Aela nodded in understanding at Vilkas’s words. 

“I can’t blame you for that, Shield-Brother; I’ll accompany you just in case they show up. That is, as long as I get half of the gold from the job.” 

Vilkas agreed and finished his drink with one long draw. 

 

******

Vilkas was relieved when the party finally decided to die down as dusk settled. He was able to retire to his room and close his door between himself and the overwhelming stench of mead. Tovar was not so lucky however. Instead Tovar was slumped at the bottom of the stairs, leaving the other companions to step over him as they entered the sleeping quarters. Sadly it was not an uncommon occurrence. 

Vilkas had already unclasped his chest plate as he began to change. Though sleep sounded wonderful to him, it would most likely avoid him again tonight. His beast was far too active to let him have a decent nights rest. His thoughts jumbled as he undressed. At last he could leave Whiterun and sate his appetite for adventure. He could only hope that it would help calm the wolf. There would be more gold after the job that he could spend on books from the next Khajiit caravan. 

His metal kilt fell off of him and he kicked it under his bed, too tired to care if it scuffed the floor. 

The khajiit always managed to get him what he wanted. He never had to worry about how either, they knew better than to sell him stolen goods. Then again if it was stolen from a bandits den or the Thalmor it was something he could easily overlook.

Vilkas fell onto the bed with a huff. He draped an arm over his eyes blocking out the nonexistent light in the dark bedroom. His thoughts began to disappear as he relaxed and sunk into the furs. Never had a bed felt so good. He did not mind the smell of spilt ink or dust that surrounded him. The room it was like his own little world, free from the nagging of citizens. Only his beast would disturb him here. Sleep edged at his mind, lulling him closer to sweet unconsciousness. Perhaps he would be able to rest after all…

His hopes vanished as a loud knock came from his door. 

Vilkas’s arm fell away from his eyes as he groaned and sat up. His door was now open; a hairy face peaking in. Light poured in from the hallways oil lamps, making Vilkas squint. 

“Sorry,” the intruder grumbled.

Farkas closed the door behind him and sat in a chair near his brother’s bed. Farkas held his large hands on his lap, fidgeting as his brother shot him an annoyed look. 

Vilkas rubbed at his eyes, smudging the war-paint even more. He knew he should have washed it off but paid no heed. He was too damned tired to care, it could be bothered with in the morning.

“What do you want, brother?” He asked with annoyance. 

Farkas wasn’t bothered by the tone at all. 

“I know you haven’t been doing so good, and I just want to tell you to be careful. I’m not asking for you to go out of your way to avoid any fights, but don’t do anything I would do.” 

Vilkas had not expected that. 

“I’ve been fine. A little beast blood isn’t going to get me killed, if anything Aela is who I have to worry about. She can be worse than a Saber-cat when she wants to be.” He laughed sarcastically and ignored his brother’s last comment as if it had never been spoken. He didn’t plan to get into any unnecessary fights like his brother now only seldom did. He hadn’t lost control of his wolf that much.

Farkas did not seem to believe Vilkas and leaned forward in his chair. His eyebrows brought together as his hands tightened their grip. It was apparent he was thinking on how to word what he was going to say. Perhaps his husband had rubbed off on him. 

“We both know that it’s not just a little, it’s started to make you act different. You‘re just brutal now, and the other companions can see it too. You didn’t stop hacking at that last bandit till we pulled you off, and there was nothing left of the guy but bones and pieces.” 

“Pah, you make it sound like I went crazy. I had to make sure the bastard was dead.” 

“More like you just wanted as much blood and gore as possible. Face it; it’s not just you that needs this hunt.”

Vilkas bristled in anger as his wolf was spoken of so blatantly. Farkas knew better than to bring it up yet here he was warning him about what he already knew. He was only concerned about him though, if not a tad drunk, so he reigned back his annoyance as best he could.

“Its no hunt, we need to eliminate the poachers and get back before anyone else can take the next decent job.” He paused briefly before mumbling something under his breath. 

“Poachers won’t put up a good fight anyways.”

Farkas had undoubtedly heard but he made no remark about it. The brothers talked for a while more as the lamps outside began to wane. They spoke of times before where the jobs had been plentiful, then of months where they had worked together clearing caves and killing bandits. Farkas eventually went to leave the room, but as he held the handle he looked back at his twin. 

“I mean what I said you know, be careful out there.” 

“Aye, I know. Now beat it so I can get some sleep before I have to throttle you!” He joked and moved as if to get up. Farkas put on a face of mock horror as he cringed and sped from the room, closing the door with a resounding thud as he scampered off.

Vilkas fell yet again back down onto his cot, yet sleep never came for him again. His mind clouded by the words of his brother and the smell of the hunt.

***

 

Eastmarch felt somewhat colder than normal to the traveling Companions. Snow covered most of the ground, except near the geysers or steaming cracks that scarred the land. Off in the distance the Velothi mountain range could be seen towering towards the east before trailing into the Rift. There was always snow in this section of the hold, yet something seemed oddly bitter and out of place among the snowy grounds. Perhaps trolls had moved deeper into the hold or some other vile mountainous creature had managed to creep in as well. 

Aela had picked up on the pungent feeling as well and was tense. Their journey had only been started three short days ago yet only now had the instinctual worry set in. Vilkas looked over before jumping over a bothersome boulder, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. It was not that he didn’t trust his Shield-Sister but he knew that once they would begin to talk it would only end up as discussion on the curse they shared. He was tired of the beast that haunted his very existence and wanted nothing more than to be done with it. Vilkas had also grown tired of the discussions themselves. 

The only thing preventing him from the cure was his pride and worry of how much he would change. Would he still be as strong? What if his senses became too dull and couldn’t hear the next time an opponent snuck up on him? It did not help that the Harbinger partly shared Aela’s view on the curse, and considered it to be a morbid blessing. 

Aela was now in front of Vilkas looking around for any sign of a camp.

“So Vilkas, Skjor tells me that you have been rather…unlike yourself recently. Is that true?” 

Vilkas answered with a slight growl in his voice. “The beast-blood has been calling to me, nothing more than that.” 

Aela smiled knowingly. She understood the blood more than anyone else. 

“Sounds to me like you haven’t had a good hunt for quite a while, that’s all. Come, let’s hurry and get this job over with. I do not like the feeling I’m getting from this place. The sooner we find the poachers the better.” 

He was relieved when she didn’t press him further on the matter. Vilkas nodded in agreement before they headed down the path. 

 

It did not take them long to find scattered bodies littered among bones and arrows. Carefully they crept closer. There was no sound from the poachers’ camp, nor any sign of life. Aela and Vilkas looked around once more but saw no poachers nearby. With a quick sweep of the area the two began to inspect their find. Aela counted two smaller Mammoths while Vilkas noted numerous skinned deer and roughly a dozen rabbits thrown about or lying on the stones mid butcher. Scattered dried bones cracked underfoot sending bugs frantically buzzing into the air. 

Elk carcasses dotted the grounds though their rot and rough butchering made it impossible to tell how many elk had originally meet their fates before being drug to the horrid place. Some of the other bodies of wildlife had remained untouched with the traps still holding fast to the legs. The most recent bodies had only started to seize and harden. The Companions looked about the grounds scornfully as they saw all the waste the poachers had left in their wake. Aela without a second thought withdrew a small knife from her bag before kneeling down among the bodies. 

Her knife scratched at the hides, determining that some of the meat was still salvageable. They could not bear to see any more of it be wasted on the maggots and carrion birds that circled overhead. Vilkas kept searching as Aela began to cut and peel back the skins. It took her little time to gather meat before wrapping them in taunt cloth and placing them into her bag. As a hunter she knew to always carry wrappings. Her jobs were long and hard and she was prepared to gather her own supplies should the need arise. 

Vilkas stood off to the side looking down the hill that dipped down from the camps edge when Aela stood. “Do you see any signs of the bastards, Brother?” He barely responded except for an offhanded grunt. Any other comment Aela would have made became silent as the look of disgust appeared on Vilkas’s face. His lip was curled upwards as he turned away from the sight in disgust. “Aye, I see them alright.” Vilkas sneered as he shook his head and spat to rid himself of the horrible taste that filled his throat. He motioned for her to join him, pointing then towards the grueling scene far below. 

Remains of a small pack of werewolves were torn apart along with the disemboweled bodies of men; their eyes still open, reflecting the fear that had gripped them in their final moments. There was no doubt that the scent of spoiling meat had called to the now fallen werewolves, luring them in. Now the once tempting smell was replaced by horrible stench of the rotting lycanthrope and human carcasses that drifted from the battle ground. 

Vilkas felt ill as he realized how thin the wolves had been. Emaciated werewolf ribs showed clearly underneath their blood soaked furs that was held down and showed the deep crevices. They had been desperate to attack so brazenly, and stood no chance as weak as they were. To have such creatures be felled by mere poachers was a pitiful sight to see that filled the Companions equally with rage.

Aela scanned the scene with a still face. The silence between them was charged with hatred for the killers. Bugs could be heard as they took in the graphic scene of a battle not long passed. Their persistent buzzing ever present. A long silver blade stood buried into the back of one of the werewolves, blood splattering up to its very hilt. 

Aela cleared her throat. “Good thing you brought me along, Shield-Brother. It looks like we will be taking care of your hunting problem after all.”

Vilkas sneered at the bodies below. 

“These were no ordinary poachers; they were Silverhand hunters.” 

He felt little surprise as the gruesome scene played out before him. The werewolves had come when there was no food left to hunt. They had suffered from the large scale hunting leaving them preyless and hungry. The smell of the rotting animals pulled their minds away from any fear for the hunters they should have felt, replaced with desperation. 

“It was a trap.” Vilkas decided aloud. “The Silverhand knew they couldn’t wait much longer so they set the bait and waited.” 

His sister nodded beside him as she watched the flies beginning to feed of the fellow werewolves. They landed on the open eyes and danced about the open wounds that they crawled inside them. The bugs would never be plagued with starvation; they had won from the loss of others and feasted on their victory.

Aela sniffed at the air before heading down the embankment. She walked respectfully around the fallen brethren, though did not care to step over the hunters. The bodies seemed to dot the land in almost a row, leaving a trail of bodies to follow. Vilkas waited before following her, taking the time to be certain the bodies were actually bodies and that no life lingered in them or left one who needn’t suffer anymore. It was the least he could do now, though the rage built more and more with each body he checked.

 

The line of corpses lead down into a less snowy area while the dark reaching feeling they had felt previously only grew. The array of bodies had ended far behind them, yet the streaks of blood had continued. There were human tracks among the last of the snow now marked with blood. Prints that were dragged showing that the survivors had not left unscathed. Eventually the tracks ended in front of rubble and slowly gave way to the old dilapidated fort. Its walls were almost nonexistent as they lay broken, the tower slanted and crumbled. The Companions both knew where they were, the feeling now sinking into place as they shared a glance.

“Gallows Rock, notorious for Silverhand cowards and the murder of werewolves and any other poor bastard they find,” Vilkas mumbled before adjusting the great sword that rested on his back. 

“It’s also where Skjor almost died.” Aela added bluntly. 

She drew her sword before slowly creeping around the broken walls, looking for any signs of activity, while leaving Vilkas no room to comment on her statement. With a quick thought Vilkas took the bag from her back and stashed it along with his own in a nearby collapsing barrel that lay next to the wall. 

“We don’t need to be weighed down in case of a fight,” he briefly explained. “There will be blood spilt today, though it will not be ours.” 

The pair slid in through the crooked doorway of the fort as their hunt for the Silverhand began.

 

\---

No one was in the first room but the Companions and the fresh heads of werewolves lining the stone walls. Some were jabbed onto pikes while others hung from hooks; tongues lolling out of the open bloody jaws. It was a blatant statement for anyone entering the fort willingly or not that there would be no tolerance or mercy; a message that the companions did not take as a threat but as a fuel for their revenge.

Herbs hung from the roof and barrels lined the walls. The plants did nothing to hide the rotting smell about them nor did the casks of mead. Carefully the Companions began to creep down the first hallway, the slightest sounds of their armored boots on the damp stone floor accompanying them. They continued to sneak until they made their way to the main room.

Two Silverhand sat around a makeshift cooking pit; their backs facing the doorway. One was an older Orc while the other was a Redguard woman, both easy to kill if their plan held well. 

Aela notched her bow and aimed for the back of the Orc’s head. Vilkas prepared to dash and slay the other target as soon as his sister’s arrow were to meet its mark. His beast blood boiled and yearned for the thrill of a fight. It was almost maddening to feel the pulse under his skin that was not his heart beat. It was a heart none his own, preparing to pounce and fueled by the smell of prey before them.

The arrow flew and hit the target, burying itself deeply into skull and into the brain of the Orc, killing him. Vilkas snapped back into reality and lunged foreword. Before the other Silverhand could be ended by Vilkas’s blade, the Redguard gave a shrill defiant cry. She pulled out her silver sword and slashed at Vilkas with surprising speed. He parried the blade with his own but the silver tipped edge still managed to knick his cheek as it ground against his steel. It stung as it burned him but the pain only fueled his rage more.

Aela heard the sounds of the other Silverhand charging towards them before he could manage to look away from his prey. “Careful Shield brother, the bastards are heading this way!” She finished the offending Redguard with another arrow and replaced the bow with her sword. He felt disappointed as the body slumped away from him sending the silver sword clattering onto the mossy brick. 

Aela grinned wolfishly at her brother, and gave him a competitive wink. Vilkas smiled evilly and nodded as he saw the mischievous gleam enter her eyes. The hunt had begun and the game was on and Aela was already ahead. As the first Silverhand came through the door Vilkas decided to give his sister a good competition. His beast blood was set ablaze as his sword found its first victim. 

Yes, he would give Aela quite a challenge indeed. 

 

\---

 

The sound of screams mixed violently with the clash of metal against metal. Shadows danced upon the walls as they mimicked the fight taking place in front of the mounted torches. The fighting echoed in the stone halls and resonated like thunder in the prison cells. 

Aela parried the blow from a mace as her brother cut the advancing attacker down. Swarms of Silverhand surrounded them now as they entered the makeshift dining hall. For ever blow they would land and ever bandit they cut down they would receive twice as many blows. The battle was not going as planned.

Vilkas wheezed as the wind was knocked out of him from a blow to his stomach. His armor deflected the war hammer. He turned sharply as he swung with rage aiming for the Imperials head. The Silverhand managed to step out of the weapons range just as cut through his beard. The knotted clump fell onto the ground and was stomped into the dirt as the battle continued. 

Aela’s laugh rang above the noise as she caught sight of the Imperials face. She quickly cut down a fellow Nord as she moved closer to cover Vilkas’s back. The Imperial lunged forward with a cry, weapon held high as he dove it for a killing blow. Vilkas met the weapon with his own. The force traveled up his arms as silver bit steel.

“Not today,” Vilkas growled through his teeth. 

He threw his weight against the sword, sending the Imperial stumbling back. The Silverhand had no time to block as the companions sword sliced open his stomach. 

Aela stabbed with her daggers as the Silverhand forced them to fight in close quarters. The companions stepped over bodies as they wrestled with the enemy. Slowly they began to gain momentum as they pressed their backs together to defend themselves. One after another the Silverhand died and bled out as Aela and Vilkas moved deeper into the garrison. 

The sounds continued to echo down the halls, though began to lose momentum as more men fell. A final scream was heard, then the clinking of armor shifting with movement. 

Aela pulled her sword from one of the Silverhands’ lifeless body with a grunt. She was rather unhurt though her newly christened wolf armor could not say the same. The sudden change of light armor to heavy had made her uneasy and restricted her movement. It left her feeling weighed down; though that was no longer a problem as she decided to replace it with her old perfectly worn armor once she had the chance. There were more dents in the armor now than there were Silverhand corpses.

Vilkas had been dealt a nasty cut on his left cheek during the fight, along with countless bruises while his armor had many dents and nicks. He and Alea had settled evenly on the hunt, but she still claimed to have killed more than he had. They were both tired and relived to see each other still standing. Silverhand though untrained always came in droves.

Vilkas sat down on a hay bale and glanced around him as he wiped the blood from his wound with a scrap of cloth. He was in a wide hallway with cells embedded in each wall. The smell of blood and rot was strong, as well as the odor of released bowels. Aela was standing at the end of the hallway, checking the papers and books that were scattered on a table there. As Vilkas dabbed the blood away he looked towards the cells. 

Bodies of werewolves could be seen behind the bars, as well as those of men. Dust was settled thickly on the locks, though the bodies had not been dead as long. Vilkas grimaced as he thought of the beasts withering away in their cells after the locks were sealed.

“Maybe these poor sods belonged to the pack outside,” he mused aloud. “Loosing most of their wolves would make them desperate, enough to attack hunters at least.”

Aela crinkled her nose at the smell of rotting flesh and tried to ignore the sound of flies. She walked over to stand next to her comrade, her stride powerful and proud after such a fine hunt. 

“Thankfully your cut is not deeper Shield-brother, or you might not be able to ramble about such things,” She noted with a playful tone. 

Vilkas shot her a gloomy sneer before responding. 

“It will take more than a mere scratch to put me down, I assure you.” 

She smiled as she noticed his shoulders relax. The hunt had done him well. Even his eyes seemed less clouded now that his beast was satisfied.

Aela moved to sit down on top of an overturned crate, and began to start inspecting her weapon. Relative silence filled the foul smelling room as the Companions carried on their small tasks. It was akin to an unspoken rule, more so a ritual, to rest after bloody fights using the time to calm their beast blood and tend to their weapons. It would never do to go into battle with a dull blade or an even duller mind. Elriah had instilled the practice in the Companions soon after becoming Harbinger. 

Aela cleaned her blade thoughtfully as her mind went over the bodies of the wolves outside, as well as the ones nearby. She was a warrior and had seen many things, though she never could brush off seeing such proud beasts turned into nothing more than lost decrepit shadows of their former selves.

A slightest sound reached and tickled her ears. Instinctively she scratched at it, thinking it to be another fly buzzing about. The sound continued though, making Vilkas take note of it to as it crept through the previous silence. 

The companions stopped their fussing as they focused on the noise. Once they focused passed the sounds of flies another noise became clear to them. The sound of distant raspy breathing among the buzzing of flies, the sound of breathing that was drawn in by shaky and pain filled breaths. A sound they had heard far too many times sputtered by fallen brethren. 

The female warrior looked up slowly before she put her hand up in a motion to be cautious. Vilkas snarled under his breath, gaining a glare from his sister. Surely they had killed the Silverhand that had held up in the fort. Perhaps they had left one not quite as dead as they had previously thought. Whatever it was couldn’t be a threat if it was as bad off as it sounded. That did not stop his curiosity from gaining hold on him. 

Their eyes landed on one of the cells as they traced the sound back. Aela got up first and carefully inched closer, blade drawn and ready. Cautiously they approached before peering through the silver coated bars. The sight made Vilkas take a step back in sheer disgust. 

 

Rotten skin lay open and blistered upon a crumpled corpse; lying there on its stomach with only a pair of ragged trousers clinging to its emaciated body. The evidence of flies feeding on the exposed flesh made their stomachs turn, though maggots had yet to take root.

The decrepit man’s back was exposed, showing a gruesome sight to behold. A large gash took up most of his flayed back leaving bloodied bone clearly seen. If it wasn’t for the shallow sound of breathing the Companions would have never known the person was even alive. 

 

Vilkas Gagged and covered his nose and mouth. The smell of rotten blood and singed flesh was horrific and overpowering now that they stood in front of the source. His stomach rolled once again but bit back the urge to heave. 

“Smells like a Nord, and a werewolf at that,” Aela whispered lowly. It was as if she didn’t want to disturb the being in front of them. The body continued to swallow its shallow gasps of air, oblivious to the warriors that stood not even three feet away. Aela sheathed her blade and knelt front of the rusty bars. 

“What are you…?” Vilkas began to question his sister before glancing at the lock pick in her hand. He fell quiet as he received a reprimanded glare. It was rather obvious now. 

“What does it look like? I’m going to try to open this damned door to put the beast out of its misery.” 

With precision Aela began to work the lock. Metal scraping against rusty metal grated at his ears. Dust flew off of it as the lock was disturbed. 

“Why waste time fidgeting with the damn lock? He could shift at any moment, it would be easier to just shoot it with your bow instead.”

Aela gave a crude huff of laughter. Her voice louder as she realized the dying man probably couldn’t hear her anyways. “Poor beast couldn’t change if he wanted to. The Silver hand carnage made sure of that. Besides, if I do it by hand, I’ll make sure it gets done right. The beasts already suffered enough.” 

Vilkas couldn’t argue with that, it was a sound and rather honorable reason, though the thought of opening the door between them and an injured werewolf troubled him. 

The pick shifted and bent in Aela’s hands. She cursed as she replaced it. Aela was an expert lockpick, but not even a master could even begin to predict whatever contraption disguised as a lock the Silverhand would decide to use. They were always changing the inner mechanics; a crafty way of making sure that the same key could never be made or copied, making it difficult to attempt to use lockpicks without breaking them in the process. 

As if to contradict Aela’s previous assumption the sound of the new pick rattling in the lock made the creature within stir. Long thin fingers grasped the stone slowly. The Companions’ breaths stilled as the movement became more distinct and controlled.

The body shifted vaguely as a face slowly crept up towards the companions. He trembled from the effort as he struggled to keep his head off of the ground. His empty eyes turned towards them.

Aela had been right.

The Nord’s cheeks were sunken in under his cheekbones from starvation. When he moved another sight darkened their faces as the hair unveiled a nasty surprise. A thick band of silver was wrapped tightly around his neck; leaving blisters and burn marks all about the skin of his throat. 

Vilkas grunted and winced at the sight of the crude and malicious torture device.

Long matted hair covered in dried blood and dirt clung to the stranger’s damp forehead, leaving its natural color to be questioned. His hollow cloudy eyes were bloodshot and blue that was accompanied by heavy bags dark and profound. 

They almost looked dead. 

It licked at its cracked split lips, blood dribbling down his chin. It was as if he was a fresh drauger that had crawled out of the depths of an adventurer’s nightmare. 

Aela paused for a moment to stare back at the creature before returning to the lock, refusing to show that the sight had fazed her at all. The only discernible clue was the slight shake of her head directed at the horrific condition, and the swift change of her pick’s pace. 

Vilkas slowly kneeled next to her and watched the caged Nord study them silently as it tried to focus on the people before him. The caged beast’s eyes dragged towards Vilkas, making the hair on Vilkas’s neck stand on end. The look was black and empty, but the face was so young. He refused to blink until the werewolf looked away and back towards Aela. Vilkas felt his wolf stir, but quickly pushed it back. This was not a matter for his beast. The whelp had given a look clearly saying he was not intimidated by Vilkas in any way, that he had been caressed by death to the point nothing else but an actual demise could disturb him. 

The eerie feeling did not subside as yet another gruesome discovery was made. 

“By the nine,” Vilkas whispered under his breath as the light of the lamps hit the younger face’s turned cheek. “Do you see his face Aela? Look at the burns!” Aela glanced curiously at her Shield-brother, surprised he had not noticed the obvious. 

Vilkas had been right however; the young Nord’s face was burned on the right side in one clean bloody streak. The burn went from the hairline till it trailed down to the top of his cracked lips, burning them slightly as well. The eye on the burnt side was usable and could blink without difficulty, surprising Vilkas greatly. 

The werewolf continued to watch the pair before him, eyeing the lock with blurry squinted eyes. The caged Nord began to clench his hands only to relax them and to once again tighten them. Its nails looked as if they had been torn from his very fingers. 

Vilkas scrunched his nose as he smelt the foul unease and blood rolling off the lad now that it saw what was to come. It knew that lock would open. It knew that something would then happen, though whether it was to help or to harm was unknown. 

 

A satisfied click came from the lock, causing the caged werewolf to try to move away. He groaned as the wound reopened from the sudden movement, making him sink into the stone floor with pain. His groan became a deep growl, now directed at the Companions. The fact that he even had the strength to voice such a sound was unexpected. 

The Companions stood up as the werewolf eyed them in fear; finally fueled by uncertainty. Much to Vilkas’s surprise the man did not beg for his life, or ask to be put out of his misery. Instead he locked eyes with Vilkas and then Aela. Wheezing from exhaustion, his eyes never left the door or the companions before him. His eyes were as feral as his voice as he bared sharpened fangs. 

Perhaps he was not as fazed by death as Vilkas had though.

 

The sound of a blade scratching against its sheath pulled Vilkas’s attention away from the lad.  
Vilkas stopped Aela from drawing her blade by placing his hand over hers. Aela looked to him in surprise.

“Wait, I want to try something first before we do this.” He was met with a look of trepidation but no arguments. Alea gave the slightest nod of her head for him to continue.

A feral werewolf would never show fear so openly as the Nord now was, human appearance or not. That was something that bothered Vilkas as the feral now watched him. His eyes though barbaric had softness to them, an understanding behind the dark circles as he looked at the two hands on the swords hilt. 

“Do you want us to put you out of your misery lad?” he asked gently. 

He did not want the Nord to suffer, yet the thought of killing him did not sit right with Vilkas. He had never seen a Nord look so small or broken before, only beaten dogs came close to the appearance he held. Yet he still seemed to have fought for life, surviving gods knows how long locked away in a Silverhand fort, gaining some respect from the fellow Nords, feral or not. 

Vilkas wanted to see if there was any humanity left that would understand his words, If not he would have no regret killing him, but he felt as if he owed him the chance to show it.

The young Nord’s face went still and unreadable as soon as the words had been spoken. His lips became pressed into a thin line, enough to hide the fangs from sight. He said nothing as he blinked his eyes, slowly and with thought.  
The werewolf’s face remained rather blank; but his eyes lit up with the slightest inkling of what looked to be a real understanding of the offer.

Aela snorted at the remark her brother had made to the younger man. 

“We can’t get him out of here with a wound like that. Besides, he’s unpredictable due to the beast blood. You already saw how feral he is,” she explained dryly. 

Vilkas ignored her watching for any sign of decision from the werewolf below him.

The stranger shook his head back and forth unsteadily as if clearing his thoughts. It was a very human gesture to make. He then looked up to Vilkas and gave a shallow shake, his eyes less harsh than before, though were still guarded. 

He did not want to die and had given a very clear sign of that. It was enough of a sign for Vilkas. 

Vilkas glared at Aela as he felt her tug at her blade. He had respect for his sister, yet was not about to allow her to kill the lad who did not wish to die. 

“Look, you already said he’s been through enough. If he’s survived that long with such wounds he‘s entitled to at least a chance at life.”

Aela looked at him as if he had just suggested she should chew her own arm off. 

“Vilkas, I agree that it takes honor and spirit to survive such an ordeal as this, but we can’t just let him out! Not even a moment ago he was growling and not to mention he looks like a damned drauger. Even if we could fix him up it would take more time, supplies or experience than we have. Humanity can only last so long, it would be a wonder if he did not turn on us the moment we’d free him.”

Vilkas felt ill as he listened to her. She had a point he had overlooked in his moment of brilliant thinking.

“The best we could do is shove a few potions down his gullet but we don’t have anything that strong,” she continued thoughtfully, her voice gentle. “There’s not much choice than to put him out of his misery. It is a kindness we can spare, one either of us would hope for had we been in his place.”

“Aye, but there’s still a chance, the Silverhand are crafty Bastards,” he argued. “They are always stuffing their pockets with curing potions. They’re bound to have some decent healing potions around too. If nothing else we can help the Lad spend his last moments with his own kind, maybe find a small one to ease his suffering beforehand.”

Vilkas would never admit it but he could not see another wolf die in vain today to the hands of the Silverhand. Though Aela would be the one to deliver the final blow, it would be the Silverhands achievement as they were the ones to create the problem in the first place. They would get what they wanted either way, another dead Werewolf. He didn’t want to see another beast added to the list that lay outside. The memory of flies feeding off of their fear filled eyes clawed deeply at his mind. 

Vilkas continued his warning scowl until Aela fully sheathed her sword. Defeated she heaved a sigh though there was no malice in it. “I’ll see if I can find any potions around here then. I doubt there’s any around to make enough of a difference, but I can at least find something to take off the edge. If not we put him down Brother. Good intentions do little to sooth such pains.”

With that she turned and left. 

 

As Aela walked out of sight Vilkas found himself moving closer to the door. He paused before taking the silver handle in his hands. It itched against his skin. Slowly he opened the cell door and put his foot inside, stopping to look over at the lad. The werewolf only eyed him quietly in response. Aela would have thought he had gone mad to see him approach the injure Nord. Not only minutes ago he had tried to convince her to shoot them through the bars instead of getting so close. Yet here he was, only feet away. 

There was no aggressive reaction as Vilkas walked into the cell fully. The warrior slowly knelt down next to the lad, inching his way closer to look over the wounds. Still the stranger made no moves against him.

Vilkas pretended to not notice as the werewolf turned its head to watch him while he started to evaluate the wounds. The collar dug into his neck as he turned, though gave no sign that he had even felt the pain. 

Though torn and bruised the skin under Vilkas’s hands was soft to the touch. Many tiny burns and cuts covered the arms and legs, yet nothing seemed more serious than the gouge in the Nord’s back. Serious he decided, was an understatement. Rotting flesh was never to be taken lightly, nor was the other clear signs of infection.

“Do you have a name, or anywhere we can take you? Family perhaps?” Vilkas asked to distract the werewolf as he began pulling away dead tissue from around the wound to see the full extent of the damage. It did little good as the eyes continued to stare directly at his face. It was rather eerie to have another creature known to kill and tear out the very hearts of its prey staring so intently, fellow beast or not.

At least the spine looked intact Vilkas decided. The wound was a good distraction from the stranger. There was dirt and other grime embedded deeply into the wound, maggots had actually settled into it after all. They were hard to see as they squirmed around the more infected and deeper parts of the wound. Vilkas cautiously reached in to pluck out the invading insects.

Vilkas apologized as the werewolf hissed in pain. It had not sounded quite as feral as before as it hinted at the slightest sound of a voice. Vilkas stopped attempting to remove the bugs. He had already crossed a thin line and was not about to take any more chances. The question rose again on the possibility of where the werewolf’s family or home town was, but the Nord merely shook his head twice, causing Vilkas to wear a bewildered expression. 

“Now, you must at least have a name right? Come on, you can tell ‘ole Vilkas.” 

Yet again he shook his head and shared the look of surprised as well as confusion that the man had asked such a thing; the first clear sign of human emotion he had so far shown. The sudden movement made him dizzy however as his head slowly began to sink into the floor. A dazed expression replaced the last, though continued to keep a close eye on the Companion.

Vilkas was about to press further when Aela came back into the room. 

She held up a large potion triumphantly if almost sarcastically for Vilkas to see. It looked like an expensive but likely effective potion. Whether it would work enough to make much of a difference was unknown, but it gave Vilkas some hope that the Lad would at least be in less pain before his demise. Aela made no comment about her brother being in the cell as she approached. Her face said it all as an eyebrow lifted in response.

After pausing at the door Aela entered as well, deciding to sit directly in front of the young Nord. He was startled but didn’t move as she put a hand under his chin, blinking in an attempt to focus on the woman before him. There was a look of surprise, as if it was foreign to him to be touched so carefully that did not go unnoticed. 

Aela uncorked the slender potion and tilted the strangers face so that he could drink. She waited until he was able to shake the daze long enough to see what she held clearly. His bloodshot eyes light up as he realized exactly what she held before him. 

He stared at the bottle and then to Aela. It was as if he was seeing Mara herself giving him a chance. Aela stayed quiet though the slightest smile pulled at her lips in amusement. The stranger paid no heed to the other Companion, fully captivated by the one before him. Vilkas held back a huff of laughter at the sight. It was no surprise to be honest, gods only knew how long since the Nord had seen a woman of his own race that wasn’t a blood covered Silverhand.

Aela lifted the bottle to the werewolf’s lips, breaking him from whatever thoughts he had. He began to drink the potion unquestioningly, fully trusting and without a second thought. He was slow to swallow as the potion reached his lips. Some of it dribbled through the split on his lip and down onto his chin, taking away with it the dirt and blood that had been on his skin. The potion started to pool on the edge of the collar, creating a harsh sizzling as it touched silver. 

Once he was done he pulled away and gave a small nervous look that almost resembled a smile. It was hard to tell for sure around the damage. Vilkas was surprised at how easily the lad could smile with the burn affecting his torn lips. He was also taken back by how well the smile had fit on the younger Nords face when he had been feral only moments before. It was almost frightening to realize how fast the switch had been.

Aela still held the prisoner’s face in her hand, even as he made an attempt to pull away. Her other hand came up as well and rested on his forehead. There was no fever or even a detectable response of pain from the touch much to her surprise. Aela finally let go after another moment, letting him support his own head. The lack of a fever held promise.  
“So now we wait for the potion to set in.” 

The empty bottle was tossed over her shoulder and out of the cell, only to break on the far wall making the werewolf jump. 

“Aye,” Vilkas responded. 

Vilkas took a moment before addressing the fact the werewolf before them had no name. It was worth discussing if the lad could be a missing who was unfortunately bit. Perhaps he had once been a wanted bandit who knew better than to give his name to the Companions. The fact he was nameless left quite a gap in their knowledge about the stranger.

“I questioned the lad while you were gone.” 

Alea raised an eyebrow at the comment but continued to listen. 

“He, well, to put it bluntly he doesn’t seem have a name. Can you believe that?” 

Vilkas was taken back by the saddened look that appeared on his sister’s face, followed by pity and even empathy that made her hard expression soften. The woman who was known to cut the heads off bandits and slice through drauger was now pitying a werewolf youth.

“So you got him to talk then?” Aela asked, changing the subject briefly.

“No, not exactly, he shook his head a bit though. Now that you mention it he hasn’t said a word.”

“He probably had a name before all this, I doubt he was one of the wolves from the pack out there…He calms down too well for that, feral outbursts or not. I’m guessing he forgot his name durring the abuse and starvation. Probably forgot how to talk too.” 

Vilkas had not wanted to acknowledge it more than he already had but the stranger was almost nothing more than a bag of bones held together by skin. His ribs were easily seen as the skin was pulled tightly around them while there were gaps in the skin between each rib, deep and profound. 

Countless bruises dotted the lad’s sides and shoulders, matching the look of fists. Vilkas grimaced as he thought of what the Nord had been through. 

“He’s only a husk of what a Nord should be. Perhaps that can be changed in time,” Aela spoke as she pondered the sight before her. “For now we will have to call him something while we decide what do to with him.”

The lad eyed them curiously at the notion of a name. He had been listening into their conversation though had yet to make any move to join in. As they watched, the lad opened his mouth slightly; looking as if he were about to address the thought. Any words he had been ready to voice died as he became confused and his one good eyebrow became scrunched. He gave up and laid his head down on one of his arms; letting out the smallest huff. 

The Companions waited a moment more before returning to their topic as the Werewolf continued to watch attentively.

“A name has to be something that reflects on the spirit,” Vilkas thought aloud. “But I can’t believe we’re naming the whelp. I’m sure he will remember his own name later on.” 

Aela disagreed and looked the stranger over again. His eyes were now half closed as his breathing began to level out to a slower, more comfortable pace. The potion was definitely making the pain tolerable at any rate. Though how well it would manage to heal him was still something they would have to wait out.

“There’s a chance he may not, and well, we can’t call him scars or skinny bones in the meantime,” Aela mused, finding her remark funny as she grinned. 

Vilkas grunted and sneered yet soon he gave a small laugh of his own. The stranger crinkled his nose indignantly at the suggestion.

“Now what do you have to say to that? I see you don’t exactly agree with our choices,” Vilkas grinned. “And if nothing else I suppose we could call you the mysterious stranger now couldn’t we?”

The response he received was little more than a glare before the werewolf turned his head away with an angry huff. Aela sniggered as the stranger did his best to avoid looking directly at Vilkas, quite visibly cross at his humor. Squinted eyes still kept an accusingly gaze in his direction, but it was plain to see he was far from actually being upset.

“I do not think he appreciates us joking about his new name. Can’t have our favorite grump out brooded by some whelp now can we?” Aela coaxed her brother playfully. He nodded as he caught on to her game.

“Aye, that would be a shame. I’ve worked too damn hard on that title so those new bloods don’t annoy me.” Vilkas gently nudged the stranger to get his attention putting their game into play. “Say, would you forgive me if I found you a suitable name before Aela here could?”

That caught the lad’s attention as he carefully eyed Vilkas, weighing the offer. He shrugged back his reply with a smile himself. He was interested now and had also caught wind of the Companions fun.

“You’re on Shield brother; I have an advantage you could never have.” 

Vilkas sat back against the stone wall smugly. “Oh really now, and what is that exactly?”

Aela grinned evilly, crossing her arms and leaning forward towards Vilkas. “I’ve had to listen to Ria and Tilma prattling on lists of names for the Battleborn’s future grandson.” 

Vilkas mocked her with a yawn and a stretch, clearly not worried by her words. The werewolf carefully watching all the while as the Companions prepared to begin their contest. 

“I don’t see how listening to those two go on for an hour makes you have a chance at winning. What’s a few names going to do?”

Aela’s grin only widened as she corrected him in a dark tone. “An Hour? No, for the last two months.”

Vilkas blinked in surprise as his confidence melted away. “Well then, I’m just going to have think of even better names than them. That shouldn’t be so hard.”

Aela shrugged with her head tilted and a smile still shaping her lips. “Well then Brother, let’s see what you got.”

 

The wound on the lad’s back began to close over the bone by the time the Companions had begun to run out of names. None of them so far had caught his attention, leaving them with little ideas left.  
Torn muscle and skin slowly eased back over the gap, though there was still more left to heal. Marks from torture healed while others vanished completely. 

“What about calling him Hemskir, like that annoying priest outside Jorrvaskr? If he makes it out of here it will be an act of the divines after all,” Aela teased. 

Vilkas rolled his eyes. 

“No. What about…Olaf, like that fur trader from last season? It’s a simple and strong name at least.” 

It was Aela’s turn to roll her eyes at her brother’s suggestion, which she did full heartedly. 

“Let’s not forget that we found Olaf rotting in a bandits den with a dagger in his back a month later.” 

Vilkas winced at the memory. “Aye, lad here already has enough problems without another back wound.”

The werewolf watched them groggily as they tossed names back and forth. The back wound had become a shallow injury that was less of a serious threat though still showed red irritated sinew to the open air. It looked less like a failed murder and more like a failed attempt at skinning. 

Vilkas swatted flies away from the wound as it healed.

Aela shrugged before making her final suggestion. 

“How about calling him Husk? That is all we really know about him so far, it’s basically all he is after all, a husk like you said. At least that way we’d both win and we won’t have to deal with your sulking hide.”

Vilkas scowled at the horrible name. It was borderline degrading.  
“There is no way any decent Nord would want to be called that, there’s no strength to it either. No one will take him seriously with a name like Husk!” His rant faded away as the Lad opened his eyes to stare at Aela a before tilting his head to think. 

It took little more than a moment for him to smile at the two, nodding his head in acknowledgement as he picked his name. Aela shot Vilkas a triumphant smirk before standing up. Vilkas was taken aback by the name Husk had accepted, and wondered if his brains had become rattled from entrapment as he also stood.  
Aela put her hand out towards the newly named werewolf. 

“Well Husk, you seem well enough to be able to sit up now.”

Husk looked drained at the mere thought, the previous smile faltering at the idea. Hesitantly took her hand in his before trying to pull himself upwards. He faltered, almost falling back to the floor when another helping hand appeared to steady him. 

“Easy now,” Vilkas warned. “You don’t have to get up fast, just take your time.”

Husk was pulled up and then carefully placed back down in a sitting position. His back was against the wall for support while the Companions sat almost directly in front of him, though still close enough to his sides should he begin to fall they could catch him.

The Companions gave each other worried glances as Husk sat there. Had the potion done enough to have a good enough effect on Husk? Or would they be left to spare him anyways from the pain that would soon return? Thankfully Husk began to smile again dashing away their worry, looking overly pleased at the fact he could even sit up again.

“So, are you feeling any better?” Vilkas asked, smiling as well. Husk responded with another nod as he stretched out his legs. A pleasant quietness began as Husk continued to move his legs carefully. He rubbed one of his arms too as he sat there, rubbing at the rather large bump. The potion had without a doubt removed almost all of Husks pain, and quite a good amount of damage. 

Vilkas looked over at Aela, raising an eyebrow in silent question. Did she think that Husk was going to be able bodied or well tempered enough not to be put down? She responded with a shallow smile. Aela thought he would be alright, but there was still more to it than that. There was still the question on his mental stability, and now on what they would do if he could make it out of the Silverhand fort. 

The trio stayed sitting for quite a while, letting Husk rest before Aela stood.

 

“Looks like you should be able to stand now too then. Let’s see how well you do out of this cage.” Husk took her hand, this time with more confidence as he tried to pull himself upwards with little of her help. He faltered almost falling again when the same helping hand appeared as before. Vilkas helped steady him with an arm around Husk’s midsection and pulled him into a standing position; careful not to touch the wound. 

The pair waited there until Husk no longer needed to lean on them as much, giving time to collect his bearings as the world spun from the effort. Husk began to move his feet forward carefully. He continued to stumble but the companions kept a steady hold on him. 

After minutes of shambling Husk was able to finally take a few shaky steps out of his cell. He lifted his foot over the silver door frame shakily. Husk made no eye contact, focusing instead on his feet as if that if they would stop working the moment he would look away. 

Vilkas couldn’t help but notice that Husk stood half a head shorter than he as he supported the fellow werewolf’s weight. It was just about even with Aela’s height. Had Aela noticed she made no sign, leaving Vilkas to question the odd height alone.

 

Husk slowly glanced about for any Silverhand and smiled as he was told of their demise. 

“So what now, should we drop him off somewhere?” Vilkas asked before carefully stepping away, letting the werewolf stand on his own. 

“No. We’ll take him back to Jorrvaskr,” Aela decided, removing her arm as well once she was certain their new comrade would not fall. “Perhaps the Harbinger will know what to do with him.” 

Vilkas was taken by surprise by the sudden decision but found himself agreeing. It was the best option they had. Who knew what Husk would do once he would be left alone after all? They could not leave him only to have him attack a village nearby.

“Either way he can’t go walking out in the snow wearing only trousers, he’d freeze to death before we got even half way there!” Aela pointed out, snorting a little at the end. The idea of Husk’s body lying lifeless in the snow was more than Vilkas cared to think about, as he agreed with Aela. 

“I wonder what Elriah will say when we bring a stranger to Jorrvaskr?”

Aela shrugged at her brother’s question though looked troubled. “Perhaps we should send word to him first. There aren’t very many options at this point now that Husk’ managed to survive. He won’t object to one more werewolf on his doorstep.” 

Vilkas didn’t doubt that. Not even two years prior a man had appeared at their door asking for the Companions to destroy him before he could hurt anyone else. Elriah had coaxed the man inside before finding out that he was a werewolf who had already attacked two towns on his way there. Instead of fulfilling the man’s plea he instead housed him in their halls. Vilkas found himself wondering what had ever happened to werewolf. 

The thought of a werewolf made him turn to look at their new found friend. An empty space where he stood moments before greeted him instead. Aela was perplexed as she also realized that Husk had left, though simply shrugged it off. 

“He’s fast, I’ll give him that.” 

Not an hour before Husk had been unable to move, and now he had vanished without a trace. 

“How the hell did he manage to slip away like that?” Vilkas wondered aloud, amazement finding its way into his voice. 

“Simple,” his sister explained, “It’s the potion. It should have numbed him up quite well from the size of it. Must have finally kicked in if he was able to scurry off like that at any rate. We should go find him, can’t have him slipping away after all that. I’d hate to find him dead from falling down the stairs.”

The sarcasm went ignored as Vilkas prepared to look for missing lad. He was sure he couldn’t have gotten too far numbness or not the wound was sure to keep him tired.

They had barely exited the hall when they saw the shadow on the wall in front of them. Someone had walked up from behind. It was the shortest search they had ever been in to say the least.  
Husk tapped on Aela’s shoulder lightly for her to turn around and opened his arms for her approval. Vilkas was amazed at how quiet the lad had been, even with his injuries. Husk was now wearing miners clothing he had looted from nearby, as well as a silver dagger in a belt that was loosely wrapped around him. He held a shy, yet proud look on his young face as he stood for inspection. The collar still showed but was mostly hidden by the shirts wrinkled neck. Its eerie gleam a clear reminder that it still held on tightly to his neck.

Aela scowled at the blade before reaching out and snatching it from his belt. Husk looked confused, but became white as he realized what he had been carrying. He became frightened as Aela stared begrudgingly at his choice of weaponry, making Vilkas worry about the more feral nature resurfacing. The lad must have taken it directly from a Silverhand corpse or from a bed stand and put it on without realizing what sort of weapon was attached. 

Aela took his hand and pulled out her own dagger before placing it into Husk’s hands. The silver dagger was tossed to the side. Husk gave her a bewildered glance as he looked to the dagger then back to her, making sure he was allowed to take it before putting it carefully in his belt. 

“If you’re coming with us you need to be armed, and not with Silver. Take my dagger for now, but once we return to Jorrvaskr I expect you to give it back.” 

Vilkas grinned at Husk a he finished his own inspection. “As well as you did you forgot one thing Husk, you can’t go barefoot out in the snow now can you?” 

Husk frowned before looking at his exposed feet, giving his toes a quick wiggle before he turned and left again. Vilkas watched as he walked away, watching the starved body leave the room without an ounce of worry. Vilkas received a look from his shield sister. Her eyebrow was raised and her lips were curled in a wicked smile. Vilkas returned the look with a glare. He did not want to know what was on Aela’s mind, or what thoughts were hidden behind the smirk. 

Husk returned with boots as well as small pocket sized bags he had scrounged up carefully in hand. He handed one to Aela without a word and smiled carefully again. It was a simple coin purse that opened easily as she pulled in the ties. Inside she found coins as expected and small soul gems that would make quite a few coins on their own on the market. 

“There is no need to pay me for your freedom, but I will accept the gift.” The response made Husk smile more as he handed another bag filled with the same to Vilkas. It was clearly his way of thanking them as his words could not say it. Instead of thanking the boy, Vilkas ruffled the lad’s hair before nudging him towards the door. Husk was stunned by the rougher yet unaggressive physical contact and gave his savior a wide eyed look before hiding it away. Vilkas yet again nudged him towards the door, this time a bit more persuasively. Without hesitation the werewolf stepped back so that h was behind the companions and followed their lead as they left the cells behind. 

 

Husk eyed the bodies as they would walk past them. Aela saw how Husk would glare at the corpses as the group rounded the corners. Bodies were scattered here and there, the result from the failed ambush. He was happy to see them dead and left to rot as they had done to him. It was more than happy though as his eyes squinted with glee. Revenge had been dealt even if it had not been by his own hands. Aela’s steps slowed as she came to a full stop and turned to look at the Nord. Vilkas stopped next to her as did Husk, both wondering clearly why they had stopped in the middle of the room. 

Aela’s face held the slightest smile as she gestured with her head to the nearest body. 

“Go on, kid. You know you want to.” 

Husk took no time turning to the closest Silverhand. His leg pulled back sharply as he kicked at the body as hard as he could right in its side nudging the body away. There was little strength behind it, though it was enough to throw him off balance. Alea grabbed his arm before he could fall and helped him steady him. Vilkas let out a laugh at Husk’s proud beaming face.

Husk was smiling ear to ear at the fact he had kicked the Silverhand. It might not have been the revenge he had hoped for, but it felt just as good all the same. Either way his captors were dead and he was free. His eyes held a fire in them that was now able to burn. There was pride and the hope of freedom, burning low though strong. 

It was a fire that Vilkas knew there was still a beast lurking behind the flames, and it was not one they could leave unchecked. Pride was a tool that Husk would need, but it would feed the wolf as well. They would have to bury that wolf down as far as they could.


	2. Bandages

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 3 will be out in just an hour or so to make up for this one being so short, i didn't realize it until just now!

Trees along with undergrowth lined the trail, giving an oddly safe and protected feel about it as they tread. It was night-fall, and the sound of crickets filled the tepid air. Husk was still silent as he obediently followed the Companions without question. Vilkas had been silent as well, watching out for any beasts that might catch a whiff of the young Nord’s blood, hoping for an easy meal. 

He gave the boy another quick glance over to see how he was holding up. For being malnourished Husk seemed to be able to handle the roads rather well, even with the wounds. The potion’s pain reliving effect still aided him, making him just numb enough to keep going. 

The companions had decided to take a slower pace than they would have normally so that he could keep up, and so far it was working. The occasional rest stop was also added to their route to let the younger Nord rest. They had so far only stopped twice for Husk to catch his wind and he was always the first one ready to start their voyage again.

Aela glanced over at their new travel companion who was now walking between her and Vilkas. It was evident that he was tired and sore however there was nowhere to set up camp safely. They could not relax fully until they were out of the Silverhand territory, just in case. 

“So Husk, how’s freedom taste so far?” Aela asked him. Husk simply glanced over at her tiredly and smiled before giving a happy little nod. Apparently freedom wasn’t so bad. 

“Poor Whelp, this is probably his first time out of that cage in weeks…” Vilkas sighed. Yet again Husk nodded, and then stifled a yawn before looking apologetic ally at the pair. 

“Its alright, it’s been a long day for all of us. You’re also healing, so don’t push yourself too hard. I’m sure we can rest soon enough once we get down this hill.” Vilkas sounded confident, smiling at the lad. Husk wasn’t convinced though did his best to keep on a strong appearance.

It turned out that Vilkas was not far off. As they reached the end of the trail almost an hour later the Mixwater Mill stood tall and welcoming. Alea motioned for her companions to wait for her. “I’ll go see if they happen to have any room for some wandering companions. Stay here and keep watch…and Vilkas? Don’t let him sneak off again.” 

Husk sat down stiffly with a soft grunt of pain as he watched her walk off towards the settlement. Vilkas sat down beside him on the ground. Husk watched the road like a dog waiting for its master, though thankfully did not feel the need to chase after Aela as she vanished from sight. There was no tension as he sat next to the other Nord; it was as if they had known each other more than just the mere hours they had.

Vilkas was happy that the new werewolf seemed to trust him enough to let his guard down, though wondered if bringing him along had been the best choice. Husk was no longer feral and was certainly more human like now that they were free from the Silverhand’s lair. Even with the change the thought of how they would address Elriah still troubled Vilkas. What would he say to them bringing home a werewolf? 

As if the Nord had heard his thoughts Husk looked to Vilkas apprehensively. His eyes were squinted slightly and brow furrowed. He stared for a moment before returning his eyes to the buildings Aela had gone to. The companion was left wondering what had made him deserve such a look. Husk yet again gave him the odd look, this time without turning away. He looked worried as his eyes stared off into the forest.

“Is there something wrong…?” Vilkas asked. 

Husk moved his head to indicate that he should turn around. Cautiously and against his better judgment, Vilkas followed the advice. Many trees and shrubs surrounded them, all casting shadows in the dimming light. But Vilkas saw nothing of concern. 

When he turned back around he noticed Husk had moved slightly away and was holding a small rock in his hand. Before he could ask what he was doing, or raise his arms to block the possible attack, the young werewolf raised his own arm and flung the stone. 

It quickly came in contact with something hard, creating a loud thud. A moment later a body of a Skeever fell from the bushes and onto Vilkas’s side. The stone imbedded in its head. Vilkas shook off the corpse quickly in surprise. Husk rubbed his arm and winced. Vilkas shook his head and laughed. Husk’s arm had to be good if it could burry a stone into the very skull of the creature. 

Vilkas felt the hair on his neck rise as he realized he hadn’t smelt or heard the Skeever until it had been right behind him, yet an injured exhausted Husk had. He would not let his worry show in front of Husk though as he hid it with a grin. 

“Good aim. Next time maybe just tell me what’s behind me though, alright?” 

Husk grinned back at him wolfishly before chuckling quietly to himself. The sound did not escape Vilkas who smiled again before putting his hand on the boys shoulder welcomingly. 

 

Aela returned some time later with good news for the tired werewolves. 

“Gilfre has a spare building available with some beds in it. Her workers left it abandoned so it’s filthy but it should be more than enough to get us through the night.” She saw the smile Vilkas was trying to hide before looking at the Nord beside him. Husk seemed pleased yet said nothing. 

“I take it something happened while I was gone.” Vilkas glanced over at Husk and simply shrugged towards the Skeever before getting up, helping Husk up as well. Aela rolled her eyes as the pair made their way down to the vacant building. She decided not to ask for details about the deceased Skeever; instead kicking it to ensure it was dead, leaving bits of blood on her steel boots. 

 

It was dusty and many webs clung to the rafters. Cupboards were thickly coated in dirt as were the boxes and chairs that rested by a broken table. Mounted animal heads rested on the walls with dust piled in their open maws. Husk’s lip came up in a grimace as he looked at the trophies. Thankfully the room was good enough to sleep in that night, and that was all that mattered to the Trio. 

They placed their bags on one of the four beds as Aela pulled out some of the meat she had harvested from the carcasses. In return Vilkas began to start a small fire in the cooking pit that rested across from the entrance. It did not take long for the fire to spark to life, or for Husk to notice the smell of food. Husk sat on one of the beds as he watched the pair. He had already been told by the companions to just rest and had no intention of going against their will, not that he was complaining.  
Alea cut off a piece of the raw meat before impaling it on a stick to rest above the fire. This made Vilkas think as he saw Husk stare so intently at the food. He was sitting still on the bed, yet his eyes followed the food as if he thought it would vanish completely. Just how long had those locks been on the cells?

“So Husk, when’s the last time you’ve enjoyed a cooked meal?” Vilkas inquired. He had a suspicion it had been quite a while. The boy shook his head before looking back at the meat again. Vilkas grunted in annoyance. That didn’t answer his question at all. 

Aela cut off another piece of meat and repeated the process. 

“Well then, when’s the last time you ate?” Aela had voiced the question; this time with more detail that husk would be able to answer. 

Husk hesitantly held up three fingers. “I take it you mean three days?” Husk shook his head and twitched his finger slightly “So I take it you mean three weeks?” Aela clarified, frowning. Husk nodded, verifying the time, and as he did so he frowned slightly and looked down at the floor, as if ashamed. 

Aela handed Husk a piece of bread from her bag which he took very carefully. He stared at it for a moment, trying to figure out what he was supposed to do with it. His eyes went from one companion to the next, asking if it was alright to eat. Once Alea motioned with her hand that it was fine to eat before they did any worry vanished and he took a small bite. His face lit up in euphoria as he chewed. His eyes closed for a brief moment before he bowed his head in thanks. It was clear to see the restraint as he made sure to not eat it too quickly. Aela handed Husk her flask of water. Before she could blink it was downed; making Aela’s smile match at the delighted look on Husk’s face. It was almost childlike to see Husk so thankful. It was also borderline pathetic as well Vilkas decided.

As the meat roasted Vilkas got up and left to get water from the nearby river. Thankfully there had been a bucket close at hand that at by the door. Outside Vilkas found himself debating with his own worries. He was having second thoughts about taking the Lad to Jorrvaskr; though at the same time he felt obligated to see that the new werewolf stayed safe. 

Vilkas dipped the bucket into the cold river before shaking his head to clear his thoughts. The current tugged on his hands as it filled the offered pail quickly. He knew that it was his duty as a Companion to help a man in need, no matter what Husk was. That did not calm his mind however as he thought of how pathetic Husk was slowly showing to be. How would a man like that survive a day at Jorrvaskr, let alone the trip there? Sure he had killed the Skeever showing he could defend himself, yet he had also been so damn careful about taking the bread. 

“Give it a rest,” he growled to himself. The lad had gone weeks without food and here he was looking down on him for simply being thankful for a piece of bread. His stomach turned as he realized how petty he was being. It was going to be a long damned trip if he couldn’t manage to get a hold on himself. Husk had already gone through enough. 

By the time Vilkas came back with the water the pair inside had already begun to dig into the meat. Husk seemed content as he downed the rabbit, not even bothering to look at Vilkas as he closed the old door behind him. Though Husk had taken time to eat the bread his mind seemed to have changed quickly when it came to meat. He dug into the cooked flesh, and as Vilkas watched he saw Husk’s sharpened canine teeth tearing meat right off the bones without problem. He took back his previous thoughts on Husk being pathetic on the spot. 

Aela took the bucket from her Shield-sibling, snapping Vilkas back to reality. Alea acted as if she hadn’t noticed his mind wandering, setting the water by the fire before getting a small cloth and dipping it in. Husk finished his meat as Aela told him to take off his shirt and lie on the bed he was on. He did as he was told and laid face down so that she could get a good look at the wound. Husk was cautious but there was no doubt he already trusted Aela.  
Vilkas’s eyes widen as he noticed the bone from the meat was nowhere in sight. He sighed in relief as he saw it over by the fire with the other scraps. 

The wound was healing soundly yet still needed some care. There was no longer any sign of any bones or exposed muscle now. It looked more as if it was a shallow sword wound on his back than the previous gouge or failed skinning. Sadly there was still enough damage to leave a decent wound. 

Vilkas blinked as Aela forced the rag into one of his hands. 

“It was your idea to save him, so it’s your job to tend to him.” Aela left no room for argument as he walked away, leaving him to do as he was told.

Vilkas sat on the edge of the bed awkwardly while Husk seemed no different than he had with Aela. He apparently trusted Vilkas too just as he had in the prison. Vilkas began to get to work. Aela was right after all, and there was nothing wrong for caring for an injured comrade. Vilkas cleaned off the bits of dirt that had gotten into the wound from their journey; mumbling an apology whenever Husk would wince from pain. He lightly wiped the burns around the silver as well, making Husk almost whimper as the toxic metal was aggravated. Any other sounds he may have made were muffled into his arm that he used as a pillow.

Vilkas saw no lock or clasp on the collar. There was not a dent or scratch on it either, just clean smooth metal. A molten line was the only mark anywhere on the band, undoubtedly where it had been welded together. The metal dipped in some places as if for decoration like the Hell-hound collars Elriah had once showed him, but there was nothing overly spectacular about the crude collar. Every detail was a mocking blatant statement that they viewed husk as nothing more than a dog.

Disgust filled Vilkas as he realized that the collar had been welded together while Husk had worn it. There was no other way it could have happened. It wasn’t like the metal could stretch over his head after all. Another look over confirmed there were no locks, and added to his worries. It would take nothing less than a blacksmith to cut the torturous thing off him now. 

Vilkas returned his attention to the matter at hand and continued to care for the back wound, taking time to make sure all the dirt was removed. Accidentally he applied to much pressure to the dirtier part of the wound making a small trail of blood and puss ooze out. Husk muffled a groan into the furs. Though vocal Vilkas did not look down on Husk’s reactions to his injuries being tended too. He had a right to groan with that much damage. Had it been he himself Vilkas knew that there would have been more cussing involved for sure. 

“Sorry,” Vilkas apologized. 

Husk only nodded and closed his eyes tightly. 

The cleaning had gone on for a while when Husk shifted uneasily under the other Nord’s hands. Vilkas washed off his rag before going back to the job. The water in the bucket had turned into a rusty brown. Dirt and blood mingled together to create the disgusting hue. 

Husk turned slightly to look at Vilkas after moments of silence. Vilkas pretended to not notice the blue eyes watching his face as he washed the gash. His eyes were no longer red or puffy, looking more human than ever. Husk’s lips became a thin line as he watched the fellow Nord. 

“… Thank you, for everything,” a quiet voice spoke.

Husk grimaced, displeased at how his voice sounded. The voice was as cracked as the lips it came from, no surprise given his condition. 

Vilkas paused for a moment as the new voice registered in his head. The voice was light and airy yet hinted a slight accent. Vilkas quietly went back to cleaning the wound as he thought of what to say. Husk frowned slightly in disappointment as the other Nord said nothing in response. He settled back down into the furs on the bed before he looked at Aela. She smiled at him fondly before replying. She had been worried that he really had forgotten how to talk as she suggested in the cell. To hear him talk now was a relief. 

“Think nothing of it, we are Companions, it’s what we’re here for.” 

Vilkas gave an annoyed sigh as he touched a part of the wound that was red and inflamed, making Husk cringe.  
“Just don’t get any infections at least until we get back to Jorrvaskr, that will be enough thanks for me,” Vilkas responded finally.  
Husk nodded before speaking again. 

“…Jorrvaskr?” His voice wavered as he tried to pronounce the name. 

“It is hard to explain, but it’s a mead hall that we call home. We meaning the Companions, which is an order of warriors,” Vilkas explained. 

Alea agreed from the background. “We are brothers and sisters in honor. We show up to solve others problems, if the coin is good enough that is. Jorrvaskr is a home to us, a place to train, drink, and fight to show off our spirits." 

Husk nodded in understanding as he mulled over the new information given to him. 

“Though there’s a reason we decided to bring you to Jorrvaskr,” Vilkas began. “There are other Werewolves there, like you.”  
Husk’s eyes widened in horror but Vilkas put the fears to rest as fast as he could. He didn’t need the lad to drop dead on him from sheer terror after all that they had done to get him out. 

“Don’t worry, they are fine, good people. In fact you’re in a room with two of them.” 

Aela nodded before joining in the conversation again. 

“That’s why we couldn’t let you bring the silver dagger along.” 

Husk gave a muffled “Oh,” before becoming quiet. The fear did not leave his eyes. Vilkas could only wonder why he had been so startled in the first place. The mention of other wolves should have elated him, not sent him into a fright. Werewolves were social creatures by nature; surely Husk had no reason to fear his own kind. 

The rest of the night was spent in silence as Vilkas tended to the gash. Husk eventually fell into a light slumber as his wounds were attended to. 

 

Once Vilkas was done he wrapped a bandage around the wound to try and protect it; stirring Husk awake. Gilfre had supplied them with a few rolls of the linen after noticing the traces of blood on the back of Husk’s shirt when he had walked by. It was almost sweet to see how much she had fussed as she threw the bandages their way. Vilkas had some in his bag; he always did, but decided to use the new bandages as they were probably cleaner than the ones bumping around in his pack. Husk was drowsy and still under the spell of sleep as he was tended to. His eyes were still partly closed as he sat up, but he would turn or move when Vilkas would ask him to. Vilkas could only smile as the young tired face reminded him of his brother many years ago. 

Aela had already locked the door to the building and had packed away the remaining food, though leaving some out for Vilkas. 

“How’s the cleaning going? Looking better?” she inquired. 

“Aye. It should be fine enough by tomorrow,” Vilkas responded as he got off the bed, leaving husk to lie down. 

Aela hummed in relief.  
Once everything was taken care of they began to change out of their armor and into normal clothing. Husk simply wore what he had already been wearing except for the shirt that was now neatly folded on the dusty nightstand by his bedside. Alea changed out of view before crawling into a bed, only saying goodnight before drifting asleep. Vilkas climbed into his own bed and began to let his body unwind while finishing the last of the cooked meat. Though cold it was much better than the salted strips he would have had to eaten otherwise.

“Need anything before we turn in, Husk?” 

The reply he received was a content mumble. Vilkas watched the relaxed face that smiled in his sleep. Husk had burrowed his way under the fur blankets. Not surprisingly he was sleeping soundly; tired from the long unexpected day and the potions additional relaxing effects. Vilkas looked away from the lad before looking into the fire burning comfortably in the cooking pit. The crackle of the fire worked like a lullaby and soon claimed Vilkas into the land of slumber, glancing one last time at the unexpected find.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for it being so short, 3rd will make up for it with a whopping 16 pages!


	3. Interrogation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BAM, only 20 minutes later i had the next chapter edited and ready for you, hope you enjoy!
> 
> I love critiques and constructive criticism so if you feel the need to give me any advice I'm all ears

Dawn broke causing light to filter in through the dusty windows of the mill shack. Vilkas had woken up first, and had taken the liberty to pack up for the others. He let them sleep as he got changed into his armor and strapped his sword to his back, taking the time to carefully check the ties to make sure they were well adjusted. The bags were set by the door while on the table he had left some bread and cheese as a traveling breakfast. 

Vilkas took a brief moment to look over the beds. Aela was sleeping well, though would soon awake. It was almost a miracle that he himself had woken up first. He Husk was curled up under the fur blankets, still resting peacefully as well. There was no mistaking the smile he held even in sleep. Husk was truly content with a dusty bed and Companions beside him.

Vilkas felt his own smile begin as he watched the young Nord. He was an odd sort, burnt face and playful humor, yet he was still strong where it counted and happiest about the little things. Elriah was sure to like him as well. Vilkas began to wonder what it would be like once they returned with werewolf in hand. If Husk happened to stay at the mead hall there was sure to be quite the story to tell, that was if he even made it to Jorrvaskr. There was a good chance of Husk dying on the way after all. 

There was little reason to wonder about the future, but that didn’t stop his mind from wandering to the possibilities. Vilkas would probably be the Companion to teach Husk how to defend himself. There would no doubt be barrels of mead once they got to the Hall, and taking him with him on jobs as company also seemed plausible. 

Farkas would start pestering the new lad on how to train and fight better like any shield sibling would. Husk may never be a great fighter after all of the abuse, but his determination would be sure to get him a spot among the Companions, he decided. 

They were pleasant thoughts, and Vilkas had the feeling that if Husk did make it to Jorrvaskr he would fit right in. He was sure the others could even manage to get Husk to possibly talk more, if anyone could it would be Tovar and his drunken jabbering that would do it for sure.

And yet…

The thought of Husk being turned away made him frown as he tried to push away the notion. There was always the chance something else would happen. What if Husk was turned away and the Silverhand found him again and tortured him more? Another thought dawned on him. What if the harbinger decided Husk was too much of a threat, and decided to put him down? Vilkas could never disobey the Harbinger, yet he wasn’t certain he could live guilt free knowing he had simply led Husk to his prolonged death. The lad had already been through so much as it was. 

 

The thoughts slowed to a stop as he realized that he had been staring at Husk, who was now awake and starting right back. 

 

Husk looked uncertain of what to do. He had woken up, only to turn and have the eyes of one of his rescuers burning harshly into him. He quickly muttered an apology before getting out of bed, breaking eye contact. Husk glanced at Aela who was still asleep and apparently came to the conclusion that he had only somehow offended the other Nord. The thought was apparent as he started his best to get ready to leave. Husk tugged his shoes on before using his hands to comb out his hair, trying to not look towards the other werewolf as he busied himself to prepare for travel. His hair didn’t need to be groomed before leaving; it appeared to be more of a nervous tick as his hands undid tiny knots. 

Vilkas scowled more as he smelt a hint of fear coming from the body before him. He had not meant to glare at the lad, nor had the intent of frightening him. He felt worse as he heard the apology be said with anxiety clear in Husk’s voice. After glancing and confirming that Aela was still asleep, Vilkas heaved a sigh and approached the other Nord. At least he wouldn’t have to deal with her just yet while he figured out how to apologize. 

Husk froze once he felt Vilkas’s hand lightly touch his shoulder. 

“I didn’t mean to frighten you, Husk. I was thinking about the Silver bastards.”

It sounded sincere, though Husk still eyed him back nervously. 

“At least now we won’t have to worry about them now will we?” Vilkas joked.

Husk nodded in understanding before relaxing, just glad he wasn’t the reason for the glare from before. 

“If we want to get on the road before sun down you’re going to need some help with that Skeever nest you call hair.” 

Vilkas sat down on the bed next to him and began to fidget with the knots. There was one knot that resembled more of a dread, and unless Husk were to cut it off there would be no way for him to untangle it himself. 

“I take it you’d rather I not just cut back this mop you call hair?” 

Husk squinted this answer. 

“Alright, don’t say I didn’t warn you if I tug or tear out a clump.”

Husk stayed quiet as he experienced the feeling. Never had anyone touch his hair in a way that was not meant for pain. That much was for certain as he relaxed into the feeling of light tugging and combing; fully soothing his previous worry. 

Nords often tended to their companion’s hair, it was as common as tending to their wounds. It was not looked down upon in any way, or considered harmful to masculinity. They would commonly help braid or tie it back before battle to help their brothers be prepared, making sure no hair would get in their way on the battle field. It was a well known notion amongst Nords that long hair would add beauty to a good face, and terror to an ugly one. There was a reason Farkas kept his so long.

It had taken a few minutes but the dread was now gone. Once he was satisfied with his job he made sure to check Aela. 

“Decent enough for now at least, now let me get the rest.” 

Husk did as he was told and turned to face Vilkas, yet still tried to avoid eye contact the best he could, choosing to keep his eyes lowered or looking at some other point in the room. Vilkas pulled some of the hair away lightly and began to braid; deciding to do so with the hair next to the burn. 

The blood that had been dried on the hair began to chip off, improving the lad’s appearance greatly. Dark strawberry hair was revealed under the grime, much to the surprise of Vilkas. For some reason he had expected Husk to be blonde like his Harbinger, or black like his own, though was unsure why. Then again they were the most common color of Nordic hair. 

“Now you look like a proper Nord,” Vilkas explained while he continued to plait the hair. 

This brought out a smile from Husk that was left unseen. After a few moments Husk took a daring glimpse at the other man’s face, and was greeted with a kind smile that crinkled the corner of Vilkas’s eyes. Husk cautiously returned it.

Aela had awoken minutes ago yet stayed quiet, watching the pair as Vilkas continued braiding. 

Husk was blushing lightly from uncertainty, as was the man next to him. He may have appreciated the act but there was no mistaking how uncomfortable he was. Once the braiding was finished Vilkas let his hands linger before lightly touching Husk’s face. His thumb gently caressing over the burn, unwittingly giving the other werewolf time study his own features. Vilkas was still surprised that Husk looked so young underneath the damage. Such an innocent face, yet it was apparent he was not used to being treated as a normal Nord should, and was uncertain on simply what to do. Husk said nothing as the companion checked over his facial wound.

Vilkas felt the slightly rough texture of the burn, but it was obviously an older injury as it did not seem to hurt when touched. Parts of the skin were still peeling away showing more burn skin beneath. It may have looked old but it was still healing. Husk did not even flinch as it was carefully inspected.

“Remind me to find something to smear on that when we have a chance.”

Vilkas pondered, deciding Husk must have gotten it sometime before they had locked him in the cell; there was no way it could have healed so well in just a few weeks’ times. For a wound like that to heal that well could take months, and even now it still had a long way to go. Vilkas wondered if the Silverhand had been involved at all. 

As Vilkas studied the burn, Husk in turn took a moment to take in the details of his face. The war paint was smudged around Vilkas’s eyes from sleep. Dark circles hung below the paint as if he had not slept in weeks. Who knew that such an intimidating man would have been the one to decide he should live. Aela had let him kick the corpse though, making his trust and thankfulness in them rather even. 

As Vilkas continued to look at the burn he noticed a small jagged scar that was almost hidden within it. The scar had been there much longer than the burn had been. Vilkas began to think about how to ask how the burn was gotten in the first place. He would have to be careful how to word it. He did not wish to bring up bad memories that could make things worse. Husk didn’t need more stress on top of healing and travel.

“Ahem.”

The two jumped as Aela coughed and began to pull herself up from her bed. The men separated and went about getting ready to go. 

Husk tugged his shirt back on snugly over the bandages before standing as well.   
He would not hold up the Companions any more than he already had. 

 

The Trio stepped out of the building and into a nice warm morning. Husk took a deep breath of the clean air, happy to be out of the dusty room. The sky had a few clouds though it seemed unlikely to rain. Gilfre was sitting outside her home and waved at the Companions as they began to walk by. 

“I’ll catch up to you two, I won’t be long.” Vilkas announced while waving them off dismissively.

Aela nodded and began to walk down the path with Husk in tow. He looked back to see Vilkas approach the woman and hand her a small bag of gold. 

The journey continued with little talking. It had started as an interesting day, though grew quickly uncomfortable. It was an hour or so past dawn, making the land bright and warm. Birds sung and flittered as the Trio made their way towards Whiterun. A slight breeze danced about, carrying the scent of wildlife and herbs. 

Vilkas was silently cursing himself as he thought of how brazen he had been in the Building. He had no reason to do what he did, he didn’t need to feel the burns, however the other Nord had let him continue. It wasn’t as if the touch had been a bad one, yet the young face had drawn him in as he had looked at its scars. He had almost gotten lost in those little details. He could only imagine the horrific stories behind those marks. 

It was check the wound on his face and nothing more he told himself. He had already used that excuse twice that morning as he thought. 

Vilkas took a quick glimpse at Husk, who seemed less cheerful than he had been on their walk to the Mill. Husk moved stiffly and was careful where he placed his feet among the stones. The potions pain reliving effect was sadly wearing off. Thankfully the trail for now was flat and easy to follow, with only rare dips that could easily be walked over, so Husk would not have too much trouble for a few miles yet. 

Aela had noticed too, though said nothing. She was too busy thinking about what she had witnessed and what should be done about it. The Companion felt nothing against Husk, but the thought of her Shieldbrother attaching himself so quickly to man they knew nothing about did not sit well with her now that her curiosity had vanished. Vilkas had let his guard down far too fast. 

Since they had found Husk her brother had yet to complain about the beast blood either. He had been wary about taking Husk with them in the first place, and yet now he had helped him look presentable this morning like he would do with his own Brother, Farkas. There was nothing wrong with that, but she didn’t see how it could be good either. It would be worth mentioning to the Harbinger once they returned to Jorrvaskr, she decided. 

Aela could not help but look to Husk’s collar as it caught the sunlight. Out of all of the bodies in the cells next to him, none had any signs of a silver band anywhere on them. 

That thought began to pace its way around her mind. 

She began to think about the conditions of the other prisoners of Gallows Rock. They had all been dead though Husk had somehow been the only one left alive, as if that was what the Silverhand intended. A stupid thought, yet the more she dwelled the more the idea sounded plausible. Injured beyond surviving without help from another Husk was left barley well enough to be found and rescued.   
The potion she had found had been close by as well, only a few cell lengths away on a table and in plain sight. It was no little potion either, but a bottle that must have cost quite a bit of coin. Funny it would be left in the open like that.

The way Husk had no name also seemed too convenient, as it made his past untraceable. But why would the Silverhand let themselves be slaughtered just to get the wolf with the companions? Surely there was no good reason for it, Husk couldn’t harm a fly in his state, let alone two healthy warriors like themselves. 

Aela felt a cold trickle of unease as suspicion began to grow. Husk was feral when they first interacted, and was now following them around the country side like a loyal dog. Maybe it wasn’t a fight they had wanted after all. Though there were many holes in the idea she feared that she had a chance of being right.

 

“...you alright? You seem a bit slower,” Vilkas asked the Nord who was now trailing a few feet behind. He knew Husk was nowhere near being alright, but it was the only thing he could think to ask. Husk nodded and brushed the question off before catching up. Vilkas Frowned as he realized that Husk had not looked at him since departure. He assumed that their earlier encounter had upset him. Vilkas couldn’t blame him, and cursed himself under his breath.

As Husk walked, his new braid swung gently making him look more like a Nord than an escaped prisoner. Dressed in new clean clothes, fresh bandages, his hair now manageable and no longer bothering him, it was a miracle. His life had turned for the better in just under two days. Husk looked up from the path. Aela was looking over her shoulder at him; unease clear in her eyes. He simply returned the stare; too startled to turn away from the eerie gaze. They were the eyes of a predator, focused and clear. He had no doubt that she was a werewolf, and a head wolf at that. She had killed many of his old Silverhand captors, proving herself a force to be reckoned with. He blinked slowly, breaking eye contact long enough to let her know he was not a challenge to her rank. When the look didn’t change his eyebrow raised in silent question. What else would she be looking at him like that for? 

Vilkas was not oblivious to the wordless debate being played out between them. Before he could venture in Aela scowled briefly then turned back and continued on her way, never changing in pace. Husk looked confused as his eyebrow furrowed yet again. He watched her carefully as if he expected her to turn around and talk to him. When she didn’t Husk looked back down at the road but gave Vilkas a brief side glance, as if to ask what had happened. Vilkas had no answer to give him. 

Aela was certain now that something was wrong with the Nord they had found, something she was planning to find out very soon once she figured out how to distract Vilkas. He had let her know that he was no threat. That look and act was one that a werewolf typically had to learn while in a pack setting, yet Husk didn’t seem to be the kind from some wild pack. He was more human than that and calmer though somehow he still knew the body language eerily well. Not long ago he had been feral and injured, yet now slipped into place with them as they traveled without any question. Husk had gone along with them as if it was normal, and even made sure to be clear he meant no harm. 

There had to be a reason.

Night was almost back again by the time they made camp and unfurled their bedrolls.   
Vilkas had bought an extra from the woman who owned the Mill before they had left after thinking of Husk’s lack of supplies. Husk did not need much to get by, but divines be damned if Vilkas was going to let the lad sleep on bare ground. Dirt was no better than stone, but it was stupid to just let his wound dirty itself again by lying on bare earth.  
The trio made camp in a small basin that was surrounded by trees that acted as a defense. It was far enough back from the road that most travelers could see them unless they accidentally stumbled into their camp. The road had been rather desolate throughout the day anyways, except for the occasional monk or traveling caravan. This gave the companions a small sense of security. As they set camp they started a tiny fire to roast more of the presumed rabbit meat. 

 

Vilkas approached the young Nord sheepishly as he held the bundled bedroll under his arm. Husk was standing in the middle of the clearing alone as Aela set up her basic deer-skinned tent. His face was turned to the sky as he watched the clouds. His lips pulled into a small smile as a look of sheer bliss graced his young features. He stood relaxed as he continued to watch contentedly. Freedom tasted sweet it seemed, and Husk was enjoying every detail of the world he could. 

Vilkas coughed as he walked up to Husk, getting his attention. Husk’s previous look melted away into cautious curiosity as Vilkas gave him the bedroll. He accepted the gift gingerly as it was handed to him. 

“Here, you’ll need this for tonight. Think of it as a congratulatory gift on your freedom.” 

Husk was taken by surprise as he held the gift. His fingers grazed the furs of the bedroll. 

Vilkas looked off to the side as he reached behind himself to rub his neck with his calloused hand.   
Husk cleared his throat before letting out a little laugh, baffled by the kindness. 

“Thank you, Vilkas. I’ll put it to good use.” 

Vilkas looked up and smiled back at the lad.   
Husk’s face was lightly touched by red as he blushed with embarrassment, as did the fellow companion. That was the most he had really said since the escape. He was not used to his voice or even his own laugh as the embarrassment showed. It was apparent that Husk was not used to being treated so well either and appreciated it greatly. 

Warmth spread across Vilkas’s own face as he saw Husk look away unsure of what else to say. Vilkas was happy to have made Husk smile, and the fact that he could make him happy with such little things he found made him content. He could only imagine how overjoyed Husk would be when they reached his possible new home. 

Vilkas smiled as he realized what he wanted. He wanted to befriend the young Nord and help him get used to the freedom he had received so suddenly, and help him decide what to make of it. He may never be a great warrior, but there was something about a Nord who refused to die. Determination was the very back bone of the Companions, and Husk had shown more of that in this short time than most could in a lifetime. 

Husk thanked him again before walking away towards the fire and laying out the bedroll beside it.

 

Aela watched the two closely. She slowly began to hatch a plan to get rid of Vilkas long enough to interrogate Husk. She bit down on her tongue as Husk blushed, resulting in the same reaction from Vilkas. She felt ill as Vilkas watched Husk walk away from him, only to watch him walk towards the fire. It was as if he was watching over a fellow pack-mate. There was no reason to accept Husk into their fold as quickly as he had seemed to. Of course Vilkas had felt pity when they first had found him, but to accept him as he did was another story entirely. Aela got up as Husk spread out his gift nearby. 

“Let’s take a look at those wounds,” Aela suggested. She did not let her feelings show as she approached. Husk eyed her warily before nodding, his eyes darkening with the inkling of worry. It was apparent he hadn’t forgotten what had happened on the road. He said nothing as Aela sat down behind him, removing his shirt before folding it next to himself.

Aela started to remove the blood soaked cloth as soon as he had, making brief humming noises as she looked over the gash. At least her brother knew how to dress a wound properly. Aela was not unaware of the eyes staring at her though ignored it.

Vilkas was watching her while he tended to the fire and their supper. She was sitting cross-legged worry free as if the trail encounter had never even happened. Husk on the other hand was stiff as he sat straight and still. 

Alea lightly touched the gash before sighing heavily. Vilkas looked up at the sound from the make-do cooking pit. 

“Vilkas, I need you to go and gather some herbs. An infection has set in.” Sadly she wasn’t lying; the redness had grown and became puss filled in the young Nord’s back. 

Vilkas’s eyebrows rose slightly at her surprisingly strict command. She continued to inspect the wound. 

“And where exactly am I going to find these herbs? I didn’t see any just sprouting up on the way here.” Vilkas had sounded sarcastic, yet the slightest trace of worry still found its way into his voice around the gruffness. 

Aela shrugged as she responded. 

“Use your nose. I’m sure you’ll find them eventually. I’d look by that old broken white oak we passed on the road. Its rotten enough I’m sure something’s growing on it by now. It’s either that or Husk here is going to be in a bit of a bind.” 

Vilkas only nodded and gave a grunt as he stood. He left; making sure to take Aela’s advice.

 

***

 

Husk could feel that Aela was planning something. He knew that calculating look all too well. The same stare the torturer would give him before tormenting him with the vile tools had taken her features and twisted them into cruel intent. Her face may have been welcoming, but her eyes were not. Not now. They were strict and merciless. 

Husk mentally prepared himself for a beating or anything else he could think of. If she were mad there was no telling what she would do. Aela was a werewolf as was he, and could be worse than any Silverhand. 

He pressed his eyes closed to send off a simple prayer to the divines. It had never done him any good beforehand, but now he hoped that someone out there would hear it. The Silverhands hunt for his demise had failed and they themselves had been hunted instead. Perhaps Hircine would grant his wolf strength to hunt again or to escape this mighty hunter cloaked as a Companion.

Husk pretended to not notice the way Aela left his wound open and did not rebind it as she left. It needed air to heal, but the way she had done it bothered him. The wound was a weak spot, one that was now venerable to attack.

“The Silverhand left you alive for a reason, Didn’t they.” 

Alea said it more as a statement than a question. She sat down across from him and poked the fire with a stick as she waited for an answer. Her expression was unreadable to his dismay. 

Husk sat across from her, worried that he truthfully could not get away if he needed to. Husk stared at her for a moment, deciding quickly it would be best to just speak. 

“They did,” he replied quietly. 

Aela locked eyes with him as she read his face; her eyes cold and watchful for any sign.

“Why?” she wondered aloud. 

Husk clicked his tongue as he thought of how to word it, or if it was wise to share his truths. He had tried not to think about them since he had gained this freedom. 

“There must have been a reason,” Aela pressed. 

He was tense and his mind flickered back to the torture and his cell. Aela impatiently waved her hand for him to talk, glaring from his suspicious silence. 

“…. I wasn’t made a werewolf, I’ve always been, I was born one.” 

Husk winced as he realized how dumb he had sounded; it had been too blunt and far too speedy. 

Aela stared on perplexed by the notion, yet it did not explain why they let him live so she motioned again; her curiosity fully caught.

“My senses are…heightened because of that,” He started. “It made me useful.” 

Aela nodded, unamused as she pondered what he had so bluntly stated. The collar started to make sense to her as it gleamed in the fires light. 

“So you are a tool I take it.” 

Husk winced visibly. 

Aela looked like she caught a thief in the act when he did not argue. Her eyes squinted as she realized she was onto something. There was a part of the reason he did not like his own kind. 

“My senses are also enhanced due to the…er…” 

Husk stopped for a moment before grimacing. His lips became pressed into a thin line as he eyed the woman across the blaze. Surely she could already tell what he was about to say. She was a werewolf; she had to have noticed it in his scent.

“…due to the Bosmer blood I share.”

The slight hint of surprise on her face as she looked at him in the fires light caught him off guard. She had to have known it, why wouldn’t she have noticed it before? She was a werewolf; she had to have at least smelt it on him. 

Her eyes began to trace the outline of the point of his ears. Though rather blunt for elf standards it was not too hard to miss. She appeared to have also recognized the hint in his voice. Aela began to look for other telltale signs of his heritage, though gave up after a brief moment.

Perhaps his build was that of an elf as well, but there was no way to tell with the starvation shaping his body. 

He had long forgotten what he looked like when properly fed anyways. 

Alea blinked slowly in thought before telling him to continue. 

“The Silverhand hunt werewolves, but they need to find the packs first….” 

He saw Aela’s eyes narrow at the way he had left his sentence trailing. Her predator like eyes focused on his face. She was most likely already putting the pieces together in her head as she listened to his testimony. 

Husk licked his lips nervously as he proceeded. 

“I helped them.”

Aela made a small ‘ah’ sound as the pieces fit together. 

“I didn’t want to, but I did it. Well enough to stay alive, I guess.”   
Husk’s voice faded off as he tried to read the woman’s face again hoping for a hint at what she would do next.

Aela nodded to herself and pulled her blade from the sheath just enough to show a little bit of the steel. The act worried Husk deeply as he began to explain again, uncertainty a little more evident. He was expecting a beating at most, not to be cut by her sword. She didn’t seem that cruel before. He may deserve death but he hadn’t wanted to do what he had done. He had no choice.

“Before you and Vilkas showed up they had locked me up as punishment. I could only find them a small pack. But you two freed me.” 

He looked down as if that was all to tell, yet Aela continued to stare him down, as if expecting more. 

If Aela wondered if the bodies they had found were a result of that hunt she did not bother to ask. 

After talking so much, Husk was almost out of breath. He had begun to shiver lightly, even though they ware basking in the fires warm glow. 

Aela did not like how Husk had said her friends name with such care. She smiled at the wounded man, becoming rather pleased with his fear. She then began to play with it, to drag anything else from him. If he had helped the Silverhand hunt down Werewolves, surely he had to know something important about the organization. 

“How many werewolves have you killed yourself, Husk?” Aela asked. 

All she needed to do now was make him think that he had to tell her what he knew. 

“How many of our brethren have you sent to Hircine? How many of them have you torn down with your claws?”

Husk’s eyes became empty as he looked down, clearly in shame. 

“Thirty Six” he answered quietly. 

“…You, the smallest man I’ve ever known, have killed thirty six werewolves…By yourself?” She had not expected that. 

Husk gave a small nod and shuddered as a memory flashed before him. 

“I was in better health when I did it though,” he mumbled jokingly. 

Aela felt pride rise up in her chest. It was no small feat to take down so many werewolves, epically as young as he was. He could easily become a valuable pack member. If she could make Husk think that joining the companions would clear his name, perhaps they could use him against his old captors and finally win. 

“How long have you served the Silverhand, Husk?” 

Husk yet again answered her, his voice barely above a sad scarce whisper. 

“Twenty five years.” 

Horror made her blood run cold as she realized how young he looked. They had imprisoned him for most of his life. There was no other explanation. 

“That long?” 

Husk looked up at her sadly as he began to talk. 

“They’ve had me since was seven. I’ve tried to run away while they were either too drunk or busy killing to notice but I could never get too far… I learned to follow orders if I wanted to survive.” 

He lifted his hand to his face before dragging it down to his neck. 

“They don’t let you forget easily either.” 

At this Aela raised an eyebrow in surprise and curiosity. So that’s where the burn had come from. It fit with his story so she believed him. There was no reason not to. 

“Why would you want to survive if you were nothing but a dog for them?” 

The question had been true, to willingly survive and continue as a slave did not make sense. 

Husk gave a small cruel sarcastic laugh as he answered. It sent a small chill down Aela’s spine as malevolent as it had sounded. It had been filled with hate and venom, though who it had been for, his captors or himself, was unknown. 

“Because I wanted to live long enough to escape.” 

The reply softened Aela’s face in sympathy, but stashed it away for the hard look of before. 

She had to make sure there were no reasons they had kept him alive to be found. Husk had helped track down werewolves before, there was a chance he would scout their whereabouts as well. 

The Companions’ location was well known nestled in the center of Whiterun. Anyone from a villager to a distant farm worker knew where the building stood tall, governed by the Dragonborn of yore. There was little secrecy over the Companions except for the beast blood that ran with them into battle; yet their true weakness had been carefully hidden away. Should the Silverhand ever realize their passage back into Whiterun hidden on the high cliff their family would be destroyed in one fell swoop. 

She needed to rule that out before she could even think about continuing to take him to Jorrvaskr. 

“Keep talking, I want to know the real reason they left you alive and not just hear some pity story.” 

Husk huffed, frustrated with the woman across from him. It was as if his past had been nothing more than blind chatter. The anger and exhaustion showed as he replied. 

“I’ve already told you why they kept me alive, to use me!”

Aela scoffed bitterly and spoke without thinking. “Your masters you mean, right hound? I’m certain you would cater to every beck and call, happy to hunt by their sides. It’s what your blood demands. To hunt, to feed, and to tear open any flesh you can get your claws on.”

Husk’s face turned white as he stare wide eyed as Aela continued to scoff his pain.

“You could have left at anytime, but you didn’t. You stayed and you played their games for your own amusement. If you could kill your own kind you could have killed them easily.” 

Before she could do anything Husk was struggling to get up on his feet while eyeing around in either fear or anger. He was shaking vividly now. The innocent face changed into one of a cornered beast. 

“They tortured and killed innocents, and did unspeakable things when I could not fight back! They kept me always hurt, so that I could never truly attack them to escape! They always kept me weak, but I tried to get away from their madness! I couldn’t fight back, they had silver everywhere!” 

Aela was not shocked at the sudden change of the werewolf. But to her dismay he was now yelling loudly enough she was certain her comrade would hear him and return. How such a small body could force out such a loud sound was beyond her. 

“They forced me almost every day of my life to track and kill and to serve their needs; if I didn’t...” 

Husk’s voice cracked. He swallowed and shook his head in shock. The woman who had saved him, had seen him at his worst, was now comparing him to a common willing hound.

“A-and you DARE say I wanted to be there?! I’ve tried to leave but they’ve always caught me, always brought me back, Always-” A violent cough tore from his throat spewing saliva and blood. 

Aela could see the panic that had grown quickly from being toyed with. 

Husk wiped his mouth off on his sleeve. There had been little blood but he stared at the spots fearfully. He jolted suddenly as a pain rushed up his spine, making him gasp. His face was scrunched and his eyes were closed while he reached behind himself to touch his wound. Blood dripped onto the ground behind him. He paled again as he stared at his blood covered hand.   
Aela scowled as the cornered man seemed to return to the injured youth and felt almost sorry for her actions. She hadn’t gotten many answers that were worth bleeding for, making her actions almost in vain. Never the less she knew what, and who, they were dealing with now. She would be able to give Elriah a full report and assure him there was no reason to suspect Husk or his worry of his captors. 

Aela stood and sighed. Her comment had gone too far, that much was certain as Husk stood hunched over from pain. The wound had no doubt torn open as it dripped onto the dirt, turning the brown into a scarlet hue. If she could manage to get Husk to sit the wounds could be tended to while he calmed. 

Aela approached cautiously. He paid her no heed as she walked around the fire. 

“Husk?” 

He refused to look up, still looking down at his hand. 

Aela raised her hands to grab his shoulder and lower him, but a hand felt oddly heavy. She had forgotten she had pulled out her blade as she cursed herself under her breath. 

“Don’t,” Husk whispered. In his still shaken state all he saw her weapon half drawn. He took a step back and tried to cover his wound with his arms.

“Husk, you need to-“

“Don’t come any closer Aela. You’re no better than they are! I thought things would be different.”

“I was wrong to say what I did. Things will be different but first we need to get that bandaged. I understand the Silverhand-“

Husk took another step back, shaking his head.

“Don’t.”

Any pity Aela felt dissolved as she glanced at the boys face as the once blue eyes turn feral. Their gentleness had vanished completely as they glared with hatred. 

“You don’t understand,” he whispered as a tear fell. 

In a single blink his pupils became slits as he bore is teeth. 

Aela decided to use the blade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliff hanger hahaha hope you enjoyed it!


	4. Ill Fated Stranger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I hope these 16 pages make up for it

Vilkas scanned the area about him for any sign of helpful plant life. So far the only result was the distant hum of Nirnroot and the occasional nightshade, the latter plant he kept far away from his travel pack.   
Vilkas continued to search for herbs but to no avail, there was not even the hint or brief glimpse of the old white oak tree. During his search he came across many trees fitting the description, but not an herb in sight. Though he was diligent in trying to find them his mind kept drifting back to the smaller Nord. 

He wondered why Husk had seemed worried about being left with Aela; let alone what the reasoning was at the altercation on the trail. He trusted his sister to keep the younger Nord safe, yet it appeared the feeling was not as mutual. But Husk had let Aela tend to his wounds, if he didn’t feel safe he wouldn’t have allowed her help. It was just something that Vilkas decided would he would ask about later. For now he needed to search. 

Vilkas stopped walking to stare accusingly at a tree that looked far too familiar. A broken branch dangled in the breeze. 

A branch Vilkas swore he had broken a mile ago. 

A frustrated growl resulted as he realized his mistake. 

“I’ve been walking in damned circles!” 

The voice was just loud enough to send birds scattering into the night air. He grit his teeth as birds shot off into the distance. Not only had he been wasting him he could have given his location away. As the stomped about looking for the correct way he caught the sight of a stream as well as a faint green glow. 

At least he knew where the sound of Nirnroot was coming from. His brows knitted together as he tried to recall its healing effect. Elriah had once told him simple herbs to use on the road, though that had been years ago. Picking a way carefully through the thick foliage towards the stream, he prepared to grab it just in case. Along the way he fought with bushes and vines that would sneak around his boot as he walked. It was worth it as he neared the plant. The water flowing next to it was clean and clear. The sound and scent of the water made him relax slightly. 

Vilkas had barley started to bend down to pick the plan as the sound of distant yelling founds its way hazily though the trees. He quickly pocketed the herb and tilted his head so that his ear was in the air, and began to listen carefully. At least now that the plant was picked it had stopped making its eerie noise. He was certain it was just another person on the road, yelling at something stupid. Perhaps it was another adventurer or a carriage driver who had broken a wagon wheel. 

A horrifying howl tore through the air and stole away his previous thought. 

The sound became a scream of pain. 

Vilkas quickly got to his feet. 

“That sounded like a werewolf…” Vilkas whispered as his blood ran cold. 

“…Aela?” 

Dread filled Vilkas as another feral cry breached the air. He wasted no time barreling into the foliage. 

Branches and thorns hit and tore at him as he ran, already beginning to feel the itch begin under his skin. Coarse fur began to sprout and overtake his body. His mind was stricken with fear and he cursed himself for leaving his companions alone, and he cursed the beast within him as it began to come forth. His running slowed as his limbs began to lengthen rapidly; making any attempt at running result in awkward stumbling. Vilkas fell to the ground as the changes became too severe for him to handle.   
His hands stretched out before him as they grabbed at the dirt. Their fingers becoming sharp as nails shot out. His breathing hitched painfully as his spine shot upward and his legs contorted into long muscular limbs followed soon by the twisting of his arms and the ache in his neck. His gums and teeth began to itch as they grew within the snarling jaws. 

Within moments the transformation finished; leaving a large black Werewolf where the Nord once stood. His wolf armor had fallen off like it was designed to, and now was wrapped around his leg by the fur kilt tightly. His thoughts were as frantic as his beast. His pack was in danger, it screamed. As Vilkas began to run again the noises began to change from the distant whispers into resounding booms and clashing of weapons. He hoped that no one saw him as he dashed across the road. Normally he would make sure that he wasn’t spotted, but now he needed to get back to the camp as quickly as he could. Fear and rage pushed him faster. Vilkas feared that the Silverhand had found his companions as the sounds grew louder and more frantic. 

 

He reached the camp just as Aela swung the hilt of her sword into the werewolf’s back wound; sending fire lit blood into the air. She ducked a swipe from its paws; using the hilt of her sword to dig into the already existing wound on her opponent. The beast wrinkled its muzzle in anger as saliva dripped from its jaws. A savage unearthly shriek poured forth as it stood up on his powerful hind legs. Strong rippling muscles showed their strength. 

Vilkas crouched low as he entered the camp and eyed about for any other attackers. The creature swung his paw out and missed by mere inches sending Aela a foot back as she evaded the attack. They circled each other in the tight space of the camp. The fire still burning behind them just as Vilkas had left it, leaving eerie shadows as it danced across the fighters and reflected in their eyes. 

The fires light caught the gleam of metal, catching Vilkas’s attention. A silver collar was fitted around the werewolf’s neck as it gleamed; now stretched and protecting the tender flesh of the throat from attack. Vilkas could only stare in awe and confusion as he realized who it was fighting his sister. 

The little Nord was not so little anymore.

It was the first time Vilkas had seen Husk basking in the beast blood, let alone the first time he saw him fight. It was not a sight he ever expected to see. Husk twisted and turned as he fought, clashing sword and shield with claws and teeth. 

He was truly basking in the blood in every sense of the word. 

The beast turned as the fire caught the subtle glistening of a burn creating the appearance of a grotesque monster while fangs shone dangerously. Husk’s fur was a mix of browns that would dip into shades of pale red and mingled with splatters of blood. A stripe of the color began at the scruff of his neck and trailed down into the fur on his tail; displacing there and merging with the browns. Scars lined the wolf’s body though were hidden below the mass of knotted fur making them difficult to see; all except for the large burn that stretched heavily across his face. It covered his eye yet unlike in his human form it rendered the eye useless as it was almost burnt shut; leaving it a shining slit among the red flesh. 

Husk’s frame was small and emaciated yet there was no doubt in the power of his muscles that were moving rapidly under the bloodied fur. 

Husk was bleeding from deep gashes on his long narrow muzzle and above his non burnt eye. The smell of fear and hatred was stronger than any other scent, even stronger than the blood that littered the ground in large crimson pools. 

Blood dripped into his unfazed eye, clouding his sight. 

Husk was rapidly blinking to clear his vision; never letting Aela out of his sight. He stumbled as his foot was caught up in what used to be his clothing. He kicked it off quickly, but never broke eye contact with Nord woman in front of him. He snarled and showed pointed yellow fangs and Aela snarled back.

Aela had smaller wounds on her left side that dipped down onto her leg likely from a swipe from the blind werewolf’s claws. Her Companions armor had kept her intact as it took the blows rendering attacks to only leave long scores on the metal instead of her flesh. 

Vilkas stared at the jagged claws, amazed that they were even there as they once again created deep lines on the steel. 

Vilkas was confused on how the fight even began as he took in the bloody scene. No Silverhand lay dead nearby nor was even the scent of bandits present. 

He desperately tried to think of a way to stop it. His mind was a blank as he watched Husk snap at Aela’s blade, only to block a hit moments after with a raised paw. Aela swung her sword swiftly again; this time at his muzzle. The blow landed, leaving another good sized slice. Husk returned the favor by swiping at her again with his claws as he howled in pain. Aela barely avoided the move as it scraped her armor creating a terrible sound as the metal shrieked. She retaliated by launching herself and her blade at him.

Vilkas did what he could think of first, and went to the other werewolf to try and pull him away from Aela’s swinging blade. If he grabbed Aela that may leave room for an attack by Husk, he could easily attack the both of them and Vilkas would be left with only seconds to react. He would rather take his chances with Aela hacking him with her blade than the snapping of another werewolf’s jaws. 

Vilkas leapt from the bushes and flew towards Husk. He attempted grab Husk’s scruff as he quickly closed the distance between them. Husk had been too focused on the Nord in front of him to hear the other werewolf coming from behind. He snarled fiercely as teeth grabbed at his fur, turning on the new assailant.

Vilkas did not expect Husk to suddenly turn on him, or to snap at his neck. Husk either did not recognize him or didn’t care as he tried to bury his teeth deep into the Companion’s jugular. When the attack failed Husk bared his fangs again and snapped hard at Vilkas’s shoulder. Vilkas knew the intent behind the move. It was to tear and disable his arm, leaving him open for attack while being be left with little defense. 

He shoved the beast away quickly putting distance back between them. 

A deep growl rose from his throat angrily as he kept the beast at bay. Husk was an experienced killer who knew quite well where to bite. Husk returned the growl just as deep, viciously signaling he would not back down. Vilkas’s hackles rose higher as a trickle of fear crept into his human mind. He wondered whose fear he had smelt in the field after all. 

This killer was the lad he had freed, but there was little left of the pathetic Nord now.

Vilkas dodged another bite from the other werewolf as it leapt and had no choice but to return his own. 

Struggling to avoid Husk’s jaws Vilkas bit back a yelp as claws sliced deeply into his skin. Husk had gotten him in the ribs with a hard blow. It was easier to hit a larger werewolf target than it was to catch the smaller Nord. He felt his own blood seep into his fur as he continued to try and grab the other wolf to subdue him. Vilkas saw no openings leaving him with the only one option. Rule be damned, the werewolf needed to be stopped. 

He had to trying to trick the wolf into giving him an opportunity. 

Vilkas backed away from the other werewolf and began to circle him. Husk did the same, all the while growling and raising his lips in a snarl. His once kind soft eyes were now fierce and filled with primal instinct. 

Aela stood to the side panting and forgotten as her brother fought in his beastly form. Her own beast itched under the surface but she knew better than to call upon it. She prepared to jump in again. 

Vilkas’s dark fur clashed against the red of Husk as the two fought. Claws and teeth shone almost white from open maws and large powerful paws. Husk might be quick and lean but Vilkas was powerful. Aela watched as the two danced about as they fought, proud powerful beasts filled with instinct and their beast blood. Aela could only imagine what Husk was like without the silver keeping his strength in check. 

Vilkas stood up straight as he returned the growls and vicious snarls. As he stood he let his own neck be open for attack. Husk gave a frightening howl and fell for the bait, leaping towards the Companion. Vilkas saw his chance. Quickly he dipped his head as Husk went for his throat. Without a moment to spare he clamped his own jaws on the scruff before violently slamming Husk into the ground. The silver burned his muzzle from the contact. Vilkas heard the werewolf exhale sharply before becoming still. His beast blood was boiling, angry at the altercation with a fellow pack mate. 

Once he realized that there was no escape, Husk relaxed in submission to Vilkas. Vilkas’s wolf beamed proudly at this, clearly the stronger wolf.

The werewolf’s eyes darted around though he stayed still under Vilkas’s jaws that held him in place. The werewolf seemed to realize that the fight was over; he had lost, and knew exactly who was now holding him down. 

Aela approached the werewolf; putting the blade to his neck. Vilkas growled at his sister in warning. 

“Husk, I know you can understand me. Change back or else I will be forced to kill you.” 

Husk did as he was told and began to shift back into his human shape. 

Vilkas was taken back at the realization of what was happening. Husk could will, and was willing his own change. He did not have to wait for the blood to die down like the others of his kind. In the surprise of the moment Vilkas forgot that he was holding what was now becoming human Husk’s head and shoulders. Quickly he opened his jaws, releasing the shivering body from his grasp. Vilkas could feel his own change nearing as his muscles tired.

Red fur ebbed away, falling about him as he took a more human shape. His large clawed paws were now becoming flimsy nailless hands. The burn on his face became less pulled as it fitted and took form on a smaller face. Husk fell forward as his powerful legs began to wilt into pale scared limbs, leaving him resting on his now forming knees. His eyes were closed as sizzling metal began to shrink, though no pain showed on his fully formed features. 

Husk had lost. He accepted his defeat and waited for what would come. 

Once the transformation was complete a nude and shivering Husk was left kneeling in the dirt. He was out of breath and trembling from exhaustion. He did not appear to notice or care about his lack of clothes. The scent of burning flesh filled the air as the collar fitted itself, burning its way onto the skin again. The wounds from his fight carried over as well and were bleeding heavily. 

“Look at me Husk,” Aela commanded. 

Husk did as he was told and met her eyes. He glared at her accusingly though said nothing; using his remaining energy to focus on breathing steadily. Husk continued to blink as blood clouded his eye, though the look of accusation never left. She had lost his trust, and he made that clear. If he felt hurt emotionally he gave no hint, instead making sure to show he would not bow down to her now or ever. Her words had gone too far for him to forgive. He looked at her as he had once done to the corpses of his captors. 

Aela glared back, and replied with one sharp kick to the man’s head. 

A horrible sound was heard as her steel boot met his skull. 

Vilkas was shaking with fury by the time he had changed back into his own human form. His change had begun as Husk had fallen. It took longer than the initial changing had been, feeling like hours to as he waited for his body to return to normal size. As he changed Aela grabbed some rope from her bag and tied it around Husks arms and legs. Aela told Vilkas what Husk had informed her as she doused the fire and packed up their supplies. 

“He’s their hunter. The only reason they kept him alive was to track down packs for them to exterminate.” Aela scowled as she continued to get ready to leave. “He’s borderline feral when transformed. It’s a wonder how they ever had control over him. Either way it’s no concern of ours now.” 

Vilkas felt his heart drop as he listened. His change reached its end as Aela continued to tell him her findings. Husk was unresponsive at Vilkas’s feet, unconscious and bloody. His wounds dripped, making his small frame look even more brittle as the white skin became stained. 

Vilkas’s hand rose to his slashed chest, thankfully finding the wounds to be shallow. They had not crossed over as deep as they had been; making him thankful for the small miracles his blood bore. Thick blood covered his hand as he pulled it away. Vilkas listened and heard of the things that had happened to Husk. To be taken when he was but a child, it sent a shudder down his spine. He dressed quickly. 

Vilkas went to kneel to check over Husk but was stopped midway by Aela. Her voice was as cold as her eyes as she stared him down. 

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing. He’s worked for the Silverhand and I will not risk Jorrvaskr getting pounced on again by them. Leave their pet here, and let’s go. He may seem innocent now but for all we know it is an act. He can turn feral at a moment’s notice.” 

Any hope she had of using Husk was now dead and gone. There was no way to train a full blooded werewolf who could suddenly become feral, there was too much risk. Had there been trust there would have been a chance, but now that trust was gone and would take far too long to regain. 

Vilkas stood back up before confronting Aela with as much calm as he could muster. 

“We both know who started that fight Aela. He was already injured and you provoked him, no, interrogated him! What did you expect him to do?” His effort at calm did not make it far as he finished his sentence with a slight hiss in his voice.   
Aela glared at the crumpled form of Husk before responding. 

“We both saw how he acted towards you when you tried to intervene, and I know you saw how we fought. There was no innocent halfblooded in that beast, only a trained killer.” Aela looked her Shieldbrother in the eyes as she continued. “He’s a threat Vilkas, pure and simple.” 

Vilkas was about to argue but was cut off. 

“Either we leave him here and give him a sliver of a chance or we take care of this how we should have back in the cell. We tried our best to do right by him Vilkas, but there is too much of a risk. We can’t risk bringing him home to turn on our shield-siblings.” 

For a moment nothing was said as Vilkas turned to look at Husk, mouth pulled into a grimace as he thought of what to say. The quiet was as thick as the air polluted by the smell of battle. He appeared distressed as he tried to come up with an argument to defend Husk; concern clear to see. 

“I know what you mean Aela, yet…” 

Vilkas’s argument died in his throat as he looked back at the body. New words formed in their place. 

“…We killed the Silverhand, there’s no one that will come after him. I’m certain if he’s not forced it would never lead to this again.” 

Vilkas sounded pathetic and he knew it. A proud warrior of the Companions who had killed one of everything was now trying to pardon the actions of the lad who had just tried to kill him and his sister. He hated the way he had instantly defended Husk, Aela was right and he knew it. Husk’s other side scared him, but to kill him or abandon him scared him more. 

Aela shook her head at his reaction; it was not like her Shieldbrother to suddenly attach himself to another; nor was it for him to show emotion so plainly. In her mind that sealed Husk’s fate. She could not risk her brother and her home for one ill-fated stranger. 

“I’m sorry Brother, but there is too much at stake. You need to accept that Husk a threat.” 

Vilkas nodded solemnly as he scowled. Vilkas snarled in frustration and began to scrub his face with his hands to rid himself of the sweat from his brow. He had seen them fight, and he knew now that Husk was more than a helpless lad; no matter how broken he looked. But Husk was barley passed being a child, he had yet to even begin to taste freedom. 

Vilkas felt a hand on his shoulder guiding him away from the scene. Vilkas glanced at his Sister sadly and muttered an agreement. Aela patted his shoulder in a brief act of comfort before leaving to collect her bags. 

Husk’s face was pale, making the burn stand out even more. Vilkas pressed his lips into a fine line. How could such a small Halfling be as fierce as a beast? Had the Silverhand really gotten into his mind so much they had shaped him into a tool of death, and controlled his actions even now? 

Husk exhaled slowly while he lay bleeding on the ground. His body relaxed fully into the dirt. 

Vilkas felt his heart stop as the lad became a corpse before him. 

His mind went blank as he processed the still shape that might have just died before him.

Vilkas found himself checking for a pulse franticly as he moved the body so that it was lying on its back. Dirt clung to the blood on Husk’s skin and had found ways into the wounds themselves. Vilkas pressed his ear into the chest listening for any signs of breathing. The sound of his heart roaring in his ears overpowered any other noise.   
Vilkas took the scarred hand in his own as he searched the wrist. There would be no way to check his neck due to the collar for a pulse that he wasn’t even sure was there. 

Vilkas sighed in relief as his fingers found a minute rhythm under the skin. Aela stood behind Vilkas as he carefully began to place the hand back down by Husk’s side. Vilkas did not want to let go of the smaller hand as he looked at the bruised knuckles. 

Burns from the silver bars had left scars on his palms. He had tried to escape; the burns a clear sign of that. Many of the burns were layered; some looked as if he had grasped fire itself trying to escape. Vilkas knew as soon as he would let his grasp slacken that Husk would be left for death again. There had been so much trust the boy had put in him when he first stepped into the cell, the look of thanks from the braid he had gotten had said as much, as well as the surprise when he had received the gift of a meager bedroll. Vilkas’s heart hurt at the thought of betraying that trust by leaving him to die. 

Aela placed a hesitant hand on Vilkas’s back, but before Alea could speak he shook her hand away. 

“I will not leave him to die, though I agree that he is a risk.” Vilkas continued with a steady voice, ignoring the look of irritation burning into him. “If he is as much of a threat as you say then I will put him down myself. If not he will attempt to return to Jorrvaskr so we can try and help him fit into society again. The only reason he acted out was because he was provoked and unless he does it on his own for no good reason he is not a threat.” 

The stubborn look he sent to Aela only fueled the fire as she began to argue more. 

“Vilkas. That thing could very well lead the Silver hand to us. Do you want a repeat of what killed Kodlak? Do you want to lose another Companion just because you tried to save a stranger? What if our new Harbinger dies too, what will you tell your brother? That you killed his husband to try and play charity to a random Silverhand?” Her voice rose steadily as she yelled. 

Vilkas ignored her and plucked Husk off of the dirt as gently as he could to keep from making the wounds worse, grunting from the effort. It had still been quick as he moved with agitation. The words stung but he kept the pain at bay. He needed to focus on Husk now, not his sister. 

Aela frowned and continued to argue, but to no avail. 

“He did what he did while cornered by them, Aela. He has no reason to do so now.” 

He shot her a glare before mumbling under his breath. 

“I hope you are happy now that you’ve forced in injured person as well as your own shield brother into becoming such a beast.” 

Vilkas had said the words with such venom that it actually startled Aela, who began to argue again, but stopped as Vilkas began to turn to walk away carrying the lad. 

“If you leave Vilkas I will not follow. I will not help a killer or my own brother if it means losing more family to them.” 

There was no reaction. 

She watched her Shieldbrother leave without even a look behind him, only stopping once to grab and throw the new bedroll and his bag over his shoulder. Vilkas left the camp and Aela could do nothing but treat her own wounds, as his choice had been clearly made.

 

\----- 

 

Vilkas had left Aela behind. 

Guilt tore at his heart while pain helped tear apart what little he had left. He had made his decision. He had chosen the stranger over his sister that he had fought beside for most of his life. For a ways there was just silence, there was no one else on the road. The quiet rang is his ears just as her words had. If he turned back perhaps he could mend things, and divines help him maybe even convince her to help give Husk another chance.

As if the divines had heard his thoughts the sound of steady footsteps fell behind his own. Vilkas paused to let Aela walk besides him. Her eyes were still cold though now burned with the hurt and betrayal that she felt. He could see her wounds had been cleaned and dressed as the bandages poked out from under her armor. They were superficial and posed no threat. Her stance was strong as she walked besides him, eyes straight ahead and on the road. 

“I did not mean to attack you Brother. I am sorry for what I said. I know you would never let harm fall onto another Harbinger.”   
A sad smile pulled his lips coaxing another in return. It was forgiveness that need not be spoken, but pressure and unease still hung between them. 

“…You were correct, what I did was wrong though it was necessary. I know you understand that.” 

“Aye.”

Aela bristled though bit back another cruel remark. Vilkas was not mad at her and that was clear to see. His eyes were also uneasy, plagued with doubt as her own were now as they both glanced down at the body he was carrying. 

“…Did you really mean it when you said you would put him down should he act out again?” 

Vilkas nodded, “Aye, and I would without a second thought.”

Aela was unsure if she should feel relief at this or dread. He was not going to leave Husk behind, but he also wouldn’t let him attack again. 

“Aela,” Vilkas began as he shifted Husk in his arms. “Would you accompany us back to Jorrvaskr? It is a lot to ask, I know, but there’s something that tells me there is a chance for Husk. I may not trust my wolf but I do trust my own gut, and its saying to help him.”

“You don’t trust your own wolf but you’ll trust a stranger that attacked a fellow Companion,” Aela sneered. Disgust filled her voice though no anger followed. “I wanted to help Husk as well but my own gut tells me that something is deeply wrong with him, something dark. If we brought him back that darkness could swallow us whole. It already seems to have you snagged. I will not risk my home for a monster, Vilkas.” 

“Then I wish you well on your journey home. I’ll take my time returning to wait for Husk to either heal or pass on before proving he’s not as dark and menacing as you say.” 

Aela’s eyes squinted in betrayed and worry as she to walk with Vilkas for a little ways more.   
“Is there a way to change your mind and make you see reason?” 

Vilkas did not respond and fell silent as his sisters eyes bore into him. It had been a brazen move to choose Husk in the first place but now he had dismissed the instinct from a companion whose gut had saved himself and others many times before. Aela was in tuned with her beast and her instinct was always one to listen too. 

Vilkas let her pass him without another word or look of acknowledgment. He did not see his sister turn around farther down the trail in a last hopeful effort before she vanished down the next hill. 

 

***

 

Vilkas still held the unconscious body of Husk carefully and was thankful that he was light, sparing his arms from strain. He had covered up husk with his miner’s shirt, pulling it over his torso and leaving the ropes still around his wrists. Husk’s pants had not survived the transformation. It had been awkward but he would much rather carry a partially clothed man than a nude one. The shirt had been a bit too long on him anyways, so it still covered him well. 

Aela had not spoken of it though he was sure she disliked that too.

Vilkas mauled over what Aela had told him from her interrogation. How Husk had hunted and tracked down werewolves, as well as the other more personal details that made his heart ache for him. He thought about how the lad he held was not a true Nord, and of the beast blood he had been born with. 

He understood why his sister had vouched to leave Husk behind, she was worried for the safety of the companions which was by all means justifiable, but he could not just leave Husk like that. Reluctantly he acknowledged that he would have come to the same conclusion and decision that she had if in Aela’s place. It still didn’t make it right though. He had meant what he said about dealing with it himself if Husk was a threat and that should have been enough. He tried not to dwell on that thought.

Vilkas shook his head, focusing on a safe place to relocate camp for the night.   
His intentions were to still return to Jorrvaskr with Husk once he was well enough, as well as to confront Aela on her methods. Vilkas hoped by then he could repair some damage that had been done, physically and emotionally as well before bringing him to the mead hall. 

“Elriah might agree with Aela and have my head, but that’s a risk I’ll need to take. With your fighting style and knowledge of the Grey-feet you could be useful; Elriah won’t turn that down. If nothing else Farkas did say Elriah was a bit of a sap for sad stories.” Vilkas mused aloud.

Husk did not respond.

“You’d best wake up soon, Husk. I don’t feel like carrying you all the way back to Jorrvaskr, you hear?”   
Yet again Husk did not react to the humor. 

Footsteps slowed to a complete stop as ill pitched voices singing loud and off-key. The sound was horrible, but there was no doubt where it came from. The men sang a typical tavern song that clearly described how much they enjoyed the women who would frequently trade fun for gold. Vilkas would be lying if he said he had not once sung that song himself at the Drunken Huntsmen just weeks before.

 

Hear me prelate most discreet  
For indulgence crying:  
Deadly sin I find so sweet   
I'm in love with dying. 

Every pretty girl I meet   
Sets my heart a-sighing:   
Hands off!   
Ah but in conceit   
In her arms I’m lying.

 

Carefully he put Husk down at the base of a nearby tree, propping him up against it. A grunt of pain escaped Husk’s lips from the movement yet he did not awaken. Vilkas waited for a brief moment to ensure that Husk was alright, as well as he could be in his state, before standing again. Following the sounds of voices and quickly found himself lead to a small bandit’s camp, filled with three drunken men. 

His intuition had been right, only bandits would sing so brazenly about such things on the open roads.

Vilkas scanned the area as he hatched a plan. The camp had a small tent and a fire, as well as adequate supplies stuffed into crates strewn about the grounds. The site rested on the bank of a river where a small fishing boat was tied to a bush. He eyed the men, weighing the possibilities before drawing his sword. It was still dark so he would have the element of surprise on his side. The drinking had clouded their minds as well, leaving little room for the basic thought of them staying discreet. He could not think of a way more perfect to release the stress and anger he held. 

After looking back to make sure Husk was still where he had left him, Vilkas leaped out of the bushes. He gave a battle cry as he attacked. One of the bandits was killed as he cleaved the head from its shoulders. The other bandits had no time to react, instead yelling in drunken surprise. One tried to put up a fight but fell straight onto their asses just from trying to stand too fast. 

The camp was cleared out in a matter of minutes.   
Nothing was easier than dealing with drunken bandits. 

Vilkas drug the bodies to the river to let them float away in the current, ridding himself of the evidence and also making sure that Husk would not awake to corpses in their camp. He felt no remorse for killing bandits; he had probably prevented the killings of innocent lives by ending the thugs now. 

He looked around to ensure that there was no trace of other bandits that had left before the fight, lips curling in disgust. Empty Skooma bottles littered the ground, and some had been crushed underfoot. Glass shards were kicked out of the way and into the bushes as he did his best to clear the camp. Next he unfurled the bedroll from his bag inside of the tent after making sure no shards had found their way into the quarters. 

Once he was certain the camp would be safe Vilkas went back to fetch Husk. The lad was still where he had been left and his shaking had begun again, much to the Nords dismay. Carefully he slipped an arm behind him before using the other arm to support his legs. Husk’s lips were parted as he breathed; and as Vilkas began to lift him a groan of pain slipped from them.   
A small apology was muttered by the Companion as they made their way back into the camp; laying Husk carefully inside of the tent on his stomach leaving the gash accessible after pulling up the shirt.   
Aela had been right, there indeed was an infection but now dirt was in the wounds as well. The skin around the wound was bright red with the slightest of yellow streaks as pus began to form. If it didn’t get cleaned soon there would be little chance for Husk’s survival. 

Ropes still held fast to Husk’s wrists and ankles. Vilkas pulled out his dagger and put the blade to the ropes, but paused as a thought crossed his mind. Aela had been right when she spoke of Husk being a killer; he had done many awful things if what she said was true. There was little reason to doubt his sister. Yet he hoped that she was wrong and that he hadn’t chose a monster over a fellow Companion. 

What if Husk turned again and decided to make good on his earlier attempt? He was more injured now than before and Vilkas knew he could take him. 

With a quick motion the ropes were cut and tossed to the side.

“It’s not like those would slow you down anyways,” Vilkas spat under his breath.   
After Vilkas was certain the lad was safe to leave alone again he went about the camp to look through the supplies. He found a sewing needle as well as thread that could be used for stitches and came across a pair of loose pants that would hopefully fit Husk. 

Vilkas sneered down at the needle in hand while the other weighed the spool of thread. He had never been overly good at patching up others, but he understood the basics. It was either try to mend the wound or let nature do the rest and free Husk to the ever waiting hunting grounds. It was where he would probably want to go anyways.   
With a frown Vilkas went back to the lad and knelt beside him with a rag and began to work on cleaning the wound. Soon after he threaded the needle and put it against the skin, thankful that Husk was still unconscious. 

 

***

 

It was almost six in the morning when the Doors of Jorrvaskr slammed open, waking up almost every Companion. If the doors hadn’t woken them, the sound of Skjor yelling for a healer did. Downstairs the noise had reached the far back room of Jorrvaskr and busted in through the large oaken doors. Elriah sat up in bed as the calamity woke him. Furniture being moved out of the way sounded down through the floor boards. 

Groggily he shook Farkas, who had been sleeping deeply beside him awake before reaching for his armor. The Harbinger got dressed as quickly as he could manage while sleep still clung to him. Farkas was changing just as fast as his husband once he realized something was going on.   
More yelling found its way into their room as they hurried.

“That doesn’t sound good,” mumbled Elriah. 

He hoped it was just another fight among the companions. He knew better than to hope that as he heard the others run upstairs. Sounds of gasping followed by cursing came from above.

Farkas growled his reply as he finished fashioning his armor. “No, it doesn’t.” 

Elriah flung open their bedroom door as the pair ran down the hall and hurried up the stairs.

When the Harbinger walked into the main hall, his heart stopped. The Companions were all gathered around someone in the middle of the room. There was a thick stench of blood and sweat in the air that became drenched with anxiety. Farkas came up behind him, stopping abruptly as he realized the same thing his husband had. His brother was nowhere to be seen. The look of worry on his face broke Elriah’s heart, but there was more to worry about right now than just his husband.

There was a small trail of blood from the door that led to a single wounded companion. Aela was now being bandaged by Tilma who was grimacing from the sight. Aela was covered in deep scratches and jagged bite wounds. Skjor had pulled out a chair for Aela to sit down, and that is where she now slumped. Skjor anxiously asked her what happened but was answered only with silence. The other companions filled the remaining room, standing around watching with furrowed brows and worried faces.

Tovar was the only one who seemed barley affected by the sight, and instead focused on looking outside for the missing companion. The preference of his Siblings did not go unnoticed. 

“You won’t find Vilkas out there. He’s caught in the Silverhands snares with a damn war-dog,” Aela spat as Tovar reached for the door’s handle. 

The sound of Farkas’s voice made Aela scowl and advert her eyes away from the drunken companion who now leaned against the door. 

“What do you mean my brother isn’t out there? Where the hell is he then and why didn’t you bring him back?!” Farkas demanded. 

Elriah sympathized with his husbands worry as he put a hand on his shoulder, bringing Farkas back from his rage. He was worried to, but yelling wouldn’t get those answers any faster.

Silence fell upon the gathered companions once Aela did not respond. She stared at the ground, her face brimming with anger. Farkas’s shoulders dropped as his own anger on his face melted away into sorrow. 

“The Silverhand are back then I take it,” Elriah sighed sadly and Alea nodded, confirming their return. 

Elriah shook his head sorrowfully. Peace had not lasted long.

Silence fell yet again as Tilma continued to tend to the wounds. For a brief moment the only sound heard was linen being pulled from a roll. Aela’s old bandages lied nearby in a pile by Tilma’s feet, bloodied and torn from a fight. 

The rest of the companions shared looks as they thought the worst. Ria already looked at the point of tears while Njada looked away angrily as her injured sister refused to speak.

“…Is my brother dead?” Farkas asked quietly. 

Aela yet shook her head, making Farkas’s face brighten up slightly with hope. There was a sigh of relief from the other Companions as they let out the breath they had been holding. Skjor went to say something but Aela cut him off as she finally spoke up. 

“We rescued a werewolf from a Silverhand garrison that we came across on our mission. He was badly off so we treated him and took him along. We planned to bring him here; that is before I found out that the Silverhand use him to track down other werewolves like their own personal bloodhound. I questioned him but he attacked; though I’m sure you already noticed that. ” 

Aela paused to motion down at one of her legs. 

“I also came across a troll on the way here, so not all are from his blows. Vilkas refused to let me leave the traitor of a wolf behind after we subdued him and well….” 

Her voice trailed off. 

“I may have been a bit too heavy handed with the Lad, but Vilkas left with him and I haven’t seen them since we passed by on the road.” 

Elriah stared at Aela before twisting his lips into a worried grimace that matched his husbands. 

Farkas said nothing as he looked at Elriah, then back to Aela. Vilkas was known for just walking off but never with someone, let alone with strangers, and defiantly not with anyone who had ties to the Silverhand. Elriah knew that Vilkas had felt guilty for hunting down most of the Silverhand during his rage from Kodlak’s death; but that didn’t mean he would just go and help one now because of it, werewolf or not. Especially not with a werewolf. 

Elriah looked over Aela’s wounds. The ones on her leg and side were lighter than the rest cutting the skin in clean thin lines that had already begun to scab. The rest on her body were jagged, fresh, and deep. The werewolf truthfully hadn’t even harmed her enough to really leave any noticeable scars. Distrust filled Elriah’s gut as he went over her story again. They had saved the werewolf, healed him, and then interrogated him before Vilkas left with the stranger. Something wasn’t right, and if Aela said she had been too harsh on the ‘lad’ she blatantly admitted she was and felt guilty. Elriah’s eyes squinted as he scowled; distrust and disproval clear to see. 

“Tilma, once your done tending to Aela please prepare some supplies. Athis, Farkas, and I will be leaving to investigate. Take tomorrow off too; you’ve done more than enough work patching us up constantly.” 

The rest of the Companions murmured as they noticed his disapproving stare that still held Aela captive. Elriah look away and found Athis among the crowd. His darker sin and red eyes stood out against the surrounding Nords. Those red eyes were already locked on his as Athis gave a nod of understanding. 

“Athis, if you could?” Elriah ventured before heading for the stairs. He gave Farkas a sad smile that was returned and a comforting light hand on his shoulder before Farkas turned back to question Aela. Athis followed and once they were behind closed doors Elriah lowly spoke his orders. 

“When we leave I need you to bring along the satchel, you know the one. I’ve stashed it away out of sight but you should be able to find it quickly enough, same place as always. If we are dealing with an injured werewolf we need to be prepared for anything.” 

Athis gave his harbinger a curious glance. 

“You’re planning to do what you did to that one stray you called Sinding, aren’t you?” 

“Yes Athis, I am. I don’t know how much of this Werewolf story is true, but I have no doubt that there was one involved. Now go get it and be quick about it. I don’t want Farkas to see it or he will expect the worst. We may not have much time either.”

 

Elriah was a good Harbinger, similar to Kodlak but was neutral on the blood of the beast they shared. Though Elriah did well as harbinger it was no secret among the companions that he had released many werewolves from Silverhand’s traps, various prison cells, or even their own insanity, by releasing them into the hunting grounds with swift poisons. 

Aela didn’t have to try to understand the look she had received from her harbinger. She saw hesitation mixed with doubt of her words. She had pressured Elriah into fighting many times when he was new to the Companions, leaving him weary of her still. Aela knew he could read her and that he knew there was more to what had happened than she dared to say. 

The other Companions offered kind words and well wishes before slowly drifting back to their rooms. They had all seen the look, and now they were uncertain. As they retired for the night until only Farkas, Tilma, and Skjor were left. 

Skjor stood close by, close enough for her to feel the concern and shame radiating from him. Soon there was no doubt about it. She had made a grave mistake. Aela could barely feel the sting of her wounds as the weight of the situation settled in.

Vilkas was missing and was now alone with a cold blooded killer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love critiques and constructive criticism, and reminder: if you found any errors be sure to tell me! I always appreciate it


	5. River Bath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 4 in the morning but i couldnt sleep, heres the next chapter. if you see any errors tell me!

Sharp stings poked their way through the darkened haze that clouded his mind and draped heavily over his body. It felt so distant now, though as moments passed on the stings turned into stabs, getting stronger with every attack. Husk ebbed slowly into awareness as the pain began to bring him back from the blessed unconsciousness. He refused to open his eyes as he fully, though slowly, awoke. He was lying on his stomach he realized groggily, and tried not to move as fresh stitches beginning to ache. He knew the feeling of stitches all too well and did not need to look to know they were there. His back burnt like the fires of Hircine’s wrath, clearly giving away their location. 

Confusion filled his cloudy mind as he realized he was no longer at the mill. It had been so comfortable there on the soft bedding surrounded by his newfound allies. He couldn’t begin to think why he would have left such a safe haven.  
Every pin-prick where the needle had been pushed through his skin could be felt now. Burning surrounded his throat as well as the collar seared itself closer to his pulse. He never did get used to that.

Fogy memories began to reappear and take shape as Husk tried to recall what had happened. There was the cozy mill house, then the road. Aela had been upset with him and then when they reached the new camp Vilkas had given him a bedroll. Right after that it had been just he and Aela. 

Flashes of a campfire and bloody fur ran through his mind. 

Slowly Aela’s blade as well as his change took shape, morphing the confusion into sheer terror.

Dread gripped him as he realized what he had done. 

He had clawed and bit at Aela, and hadn’t felt the least bit guilty for it. She was going to hurt him and he had retaliated, but lost himself in the fight as he hacked away at her with his claws. Had she really gone to hurt him, or was it an excuse he made just so he could fight? Aela was right either way, he had enjoyed the fight. He always enjoyed the fighting. What if he really was just a blood thirsty hound? The questions were loud enough to drowned out the rest in his otherwise crowded mind.

“Damn it all…”Husk murmured into the Furs. 

After what the pair had done for him he still spilt Aela’s blood. Husk’s heart ached as he recalled the other werewolf that had grabbed him. The taste of the black fur as it slipped though his muzzle as he tried to bite. He had managed to attack both of the Nords who had tried to help him. The urge to kill as he had fought the Companions had grown so fast in the camp. 

He had soiled his only chance of freedom with the blood of his liberators. 

He’d even tried to tear out Vilkas’s throat. 

Husk held back a sob before it could crawl up his dry throat. He refused to cry. It had been his fault and his alone. There was no reason they should have tried to save him. But they had, and now he had bit the hands that had not days ago undid the locks. 

With his eyes still closed Husk moved his hands slightly to feel the world around him. It was a poor attempt to distract himself from the growing guilt, but it was all he could think to do. His eyes ached horribly in their sockets so he kept them tightly shut. Callused hands brushed over the bedding, feeling the furs that were under him cushioning him from the ground. As he felt around more he decided that the furs were actually a part of a bedroll, his suspicions confirmed when his fingers brushed against the thick leather stitching holding them together. It smelt of Vilkas as well as the mill they had spent the night at, and of his own blood. 

Vilkas had let him keep the gift. 

Husk couldn’t decide if that made him feel better or worse. He didn’t deserve such lavish gifts, let alone to keep them after what he had done.

A cold breeze nipped at his unsheltered hands as he continued the search. Rocky dirt lied at the edge of his bedroll. The bedding was a vast improvement from his dingy cell, making him feel somewhat safer as he continued to investigate. It kept him warmer than his hands were. It was just thick enough that he hadn’t even felt the ground through the bedroll. 

Husk was certain that he was alone as his hands wandered. 

His lungs and nose burned as he took a deep breath, hoping for any sign of a scent to tell him where he was. Nothing could be smelt over his own blood and the leathers below him. Hints of Vilkas and Aela that still clung to the bedroll, though any other smells were muddled as his clouded mind tried to make sense of them. 

Quiet nature surrounded him giving comfort as the occasional sounds of distant birds and bugs sung. 

Though comforting nature did little to ease the worries from his mind. There was no way to tell where he was or if he was safe. Husk was not dumb; he knew full well that his injuries would lead to his death now that he was unprotected. If the wounds themselves didn’t kill him a predator surely would. 

He had been left behind, there was no one else around that he could smell or hear. There was no reason to think or hope otherwise.

Husk could only hope that death would not take its time, and end him before the bears or sabers could. At least now he would pass on surrounded by nature instead of drunken Silverhand, graced by the freedom that had been given to him so willingly. 

“Come now Husk, I know you’re awake. Join the word of the living, you’re safe here.” 

Husk stiffened in surprise as the sudden sound froze his hands in place. 

“Aela won’t hurt you now, she‘s already returned to Jorrvaskr no doubt.” The voice reassured him.

The familiar voice instantly relived some of the worry he felt. Husk opened one eye and looked at the man who sat cross-legged in front of him. His hand was scarcely a foot away from their knee. 

Vilkas smiled down at him sadly, watching carefully as if deciding what to do. It didn’t take long for him to decide it seemed, as he soon reached out a war scarred hand.   
Husk flinched as it came closer. Where he had expected pain he instead felt the gentle ruffling of his hair. 

It was an unbearably kind gesture. 

Why wasn’t Vilkas acting mad, he wondered? Confusion took the place of any worry. Husk glanced away from the Companion to look around. They were inside of a tent and Husk could now feel the warmth of a nearby fire; though his hands remained oddly cold. 

It appeared to be the middle of the night and the crickets were sounding off nearby along with the croaking of frogs. The birds he had heard were night sparrows that hunted in the brambles.

Vilkas’s bright silver eyes were saddened as they watched him. Perhaps even pity.   
Husk’s eyes in return searched for an answer to the unspoken question, but Vilkas understood. 

“Aela told me what you said. Perhaps more than should have been repeated,” Vilkas admitted quietly.

Husk cringed, certain that he would be loathed at best.   
Vilkas said nothing for a moment, leaning back against the tents support. His eyes were heavy with lack of sleep. Just how long had he been out? 

Husk would not blame the Nord if he suddenly exploded on him with angry fists. There was no hiding the questions Vilkas seemed ready to ask. He would open his mouth as if to speak, then change his mind and close them just as quick. 

“…So how do you feel?” Vilkas ventured carefully, as if a single wrong word would cause a beast to appear from thin air. 

Husk shrank deeper into the bedding instinctively, fully expecting for the Nord to give way to the anger that had to be building up. Vilkas was being far too calm and far too nice. He would have almost preferred to see him mad.

“Hurts a bit to be honest,” Husk finally replied, his voice quiet as the Companion continued to watch him with the same false worried look.

It would be any moment now Husk feared. There would be severe punishment for his actions, and Husk wouldn’t blame him at all. Surprisingly Vilkas did not move to attack him; instead he shifted closer and cleared his throat. 

“I shouldn’t have left you two alone, I should have seen that something was going on back there. I am sorry. You will not be left like that again, that I can promise you.” 

Husk stared at Vilkas in confusion while he nodded, accepting the apology. He did not blame Vilkas for what had happened, but it seemed to do the man some good to be forgiven anyways. 

Vilkas’s eyes lit up briefly at the acceptance, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He looked as relived as Husk felt from not being alone, but instead just happy to be forgiven.   
Blue eyes returned to worry as he caught sight of Husk staring quite bluntly at his chest. 

Husk’ burnt lips turned into a grimace as he stared at Vilkas’s chest, bare and tightly bound. Thick linen wrapped itself around his muscular form. Small traces of blood could be seen, outlining the slash from large claws.

“You’re hurt.” Husk’s quiet voice broke under the renewed guilt he felt. 

Vilkas gave a small sarcastic huff, glancing down at the bandages almost amused. 

“Aye, I’ve had worse.” 

Husk’s face fell as he stared at the wound. He had injured the companion. It was his fault he was hurt, it had been his claws that had tore his skin. 

Husk began to apologize as his voice wavered. “Companion I-” 

Vilkas knew what he was about to say and put his hand up to stop him. Husk’s words died in his throat. 

“Don’t. You were only defending yourself. There is nothing to forgive, you did nothing wrong.” His voice had started stern though became gentle. “You handled yourself well given your condition. Not many can say they went up against Aela and survived.”

Vilkas sighed though as he finished talking. He looked as guilty as Husk himself felt. It was as if he did not agree with the words he had spoken so carefully. He knew full well that Husk had been at fault. Vilkas dragged a hand through his own hair. 

“Though…”

Vilkas did not want to continue what he had started to say. Confliction played clearly on his features as he licked his lips. Yet again he shifted, as if looking for a more comfortable position. Vilkas closed his eyes and took a deep breath, sighing to let the question and stress out.

“Is is true, Husk?”

Husk stayed quiet as the Companion stared at him. Not only did the man frown but betrayal lurked right underneath, though well hidden under the warriors lined features.

“Aela, was she right, did you hunt your own kind like this? Did you work for the Silverhand?”

His voice had sounded betrayed as well, he sounded like a broken man. One who had chose a killer over his own sister. The betrayal wasn’t fully meant for him, but to himself and his sister. It was clear he hoped he had made the right choice and wanted to hear Husk say no. 

Husk nodded solemnly. There would be no words to explain what Aela already had.

He could hear as the breath caught in Vilkas’s throat.

“Ah,” he swallowed, “…I see.” 

Vilkas closed his eyes as he breathed in deeply. 

The tent fell quiet. 

“You shouldn’t have done that. You should have let us finish the fight.”  
Vilkas scowled in response, unamused. “If I hadn’t stepped in you’d already be rotting.”

“Exactly.”

Vilkas stared in disbelief as the small voice suggested he should have let him be killed. For a brief moment the warrior’s calm facade was broken. His mouth opened as if to say something, though nothing came forward. His surprise was quickly replaced with anger. 

“We’ve come too damn far to kill you off now. You should have told us this back at camp! Aela wouldn’t have had to go so far if you had just said something!”

Husk lifted his head as much as he could. His body felt a league away, and far too heavy.

“She wouldn’t have? Good to know!” Husk snapped. “Would you still have helped me? She knew all that she wanted to when she started calling me their dog! I never wanted to serve them; I didn’t want to kill werewolves!”  
Husk’ voice broke and shook as his eyes welled up in anger.

“I didn’t want to stay, and I sure wasn’t going to let her tell me otherwise. And don’t you dare lie and tell me you wouldn’t have killed me yourself.”

Vilkas quelled his anger as Husk’s words sunk in. There was no doubt he would have slit Husk’s throat himself back in the cells if he had known what he did. Though he had not heard of Aela’s taunting.

“Aela accused you of wanting all that?” 

“If she didn’t I wouldn’t have turned. And after all that she came at me sword drawn.” Husk’s voice became hard as he glared at Vilkas. “What did you expect me to do, Companion?” 

Vilkas said nothing. His sister had indeed called it an interrogation but nothing was said about accusations. She had pulled her sword, that much he knew, but he was sure it had been after Husk had changed from fear. 

“I was unaware of this. I was told you had attacked unprovoked. I would have done the same had I been you.”

Husk’s rage fell away and vanished from his features. The hard lines of his forehead relaxing and the snarl on his lips did the same. Husk quickly turned his face down and away, breaking eye contact as embarrassment and anger at himself grew.

Vilkas grunted as his own wound began to ache, raising a hand to the bandages. 

Husk’s eyes drifted back to him and watched as he applied pressure to the cuts.

“I am sorry I attacked you, and for assuming,” Husk apologized quietly.

Vilkas shook his head in response. “There is no need to apologize, like I said before.”

The younger werewolf sat up anyways. He had already said and done so much to the Companion, an apology was only fitting. Husk was confused as Vilkas reached out quickly to grab his shoulders. 

“Stay down!” Vilkas ordered with a snap.

Had Vilkas not pushed Husk back into the furs he would have laid down again soon as a sudden overwhelming pain struck him; leaving him faint as his sight turned dark. 

It was as if a bomb had gone off in his head. Stars took over his vision as his eyes flittered shut in an attempt to block out the horrendous pain. He gritted his teeth as he buried his face into the pelts and groaned, hoping to muffle the sound. 

Husk wondered briefly if Vilkas had struck him.

The pain continued making him realize that Vilkas hadn’t been the source. Husk’s burnt hands held tightly to the edges of his bedroll, slowly turning his bruised knuckles white. 

It did not go unnoticed by Vilkas as he sat back unable to help, only able to watch the Halfling endured the effects from the wounds. 

Husk could feel the fur poking into a gash on his face, though the worst pain came from his head that was beginning to rival the pain in his back. The fur brushed against his burn and his tightly shut eyelids causing them to itch. Husk focused on breathing deeply as his thoughts jumbled together and merged into a large blur, hoping to clear his mind that was becoming foggy. Sweat dotted his brow as he continued to fight to restrain from yelling in pain. It began to hit him in harsh waves; one bout of pain after another. His head hurt as badly as his back as a horrid taste filled his mouth. Husk could taste his own blood as a bit of bile came up his throat. 

The waves lasted for many moments, though soon enough the pain turned into throbbing that slowly began to subside, turning into a dull ache. Husk moved his head so that it rested as comfortably as it could manage on its side, leaving the burn to touch the air. 

Vilkas watched as the werewolf shivered from exhaustion before Husk finally opened his eyes. Sickly red now took the place of the previous white, and as he watched he saw them begin to glaze over. 

Cautiously Vilkas stretched his hand out to brush back Husks hair away from the burn. He had hoped it would help comfort Husk as he gently placed his fingers under the hair. His gesture was met with moisture and strong heat. Husk began to sweat profusely under his hand, scaring Vilkas greatly. The lad was already dehydrated enough from blood loss; losing more would spell certain death, and so did the fever.   
Husk croaked out an apology from behind clenched teeth as he closed his eyes again. 

“Stubborn fool,” Vilkas hissed as Husk apologized again anyways even through pain. Vilkas brushed the hair away gently before reassuring the lad. 

“It’s not your fault, just stick in there as best you can. There’s not much distance left between us and Jorrvaskr; there’s bound to be a healer there that can help you.” 

Husk tried to give a small smile as Vilkas began to joke. 

“We can’t have you dying before we get there now can we? No, remember we’ve got to try and get you into the companions!” 

The kind words had been more for himself than for the lad as his worry grew. 

The only healer Vilkas knew was capable of treating a werewolf and such horrible damage was Elriah. There were many miles between them and the Harbinger, and as Vilkas began to worry more he realized that even if he could get to the nearest town there was little chance that Husk would survive the tip there. 

The small Halfling eventually fell into a light slumber while sweat still formed on his brow as the Companion sat watch by the tents opening. There was little Vilkas could do for Husk now. He wasn’t an expert on healing, he had barely got by with the stitches! Vilkas stood quietly, snatching the nearest rag he could find from the bandit’s supplies before heading to the river. He could at least try to keep husk cool. 

Carefully Vilkas walked out into the shallows; sending ripples out into the water. The ground underneath his boots was more silt like than sand. It was harder that he expected to anchor himself in one place instead of sliding about. He soaked the rag into the freezing water and shook it to dislodge any dirt or grime. The chill crept through the metal and into his bones. Nord’s almost never got cold, as they were fully built for the treacherous terrain that was called Skyrim. Yet as the river swirled about him a memory surfaced in his mind, one that he and his brother had just spoken of not long ago. It brought another grim look to his face as he recalled the fear of seeing his brother sick and lifeless in the healers care.

Farkas and himself had only been twelve at the time of the incident. They had been living at Jorrvaskr for years by then, though had yet to receive the beast blood. They were on a mission with Skjor who at the time was like a father to them. He still was in an odd way but now they were equals, brothers in the blood. 

It had been a small task but they were happy to take it. The job was simple: Clear out a group of skeevers from a basement in the Rift that had taken over. The journey went easily and there had only been a handful of the rodents to take care of. During the fight though Farkas had backed up too far and been cut by a rusty nail that was sticking out from the wall. It had been a small shallow gash. The group thought nothing of it, not even bothering to bandage it up before camping for the night.   
They had camped by a small lake behind Riften, as Skjor loathed the nearby town. 

Sometime during the night Skjor had woken up to find Farkas burning with a high fever. Skjor had curse loudly at the discovery, waking Vilkas as well. There had been no potions with them so Skjor did the next best thing he could. He had grabbed up Farkas and took him out into the middle of the lake.   
Vilkas smiled as he remembered worrying that Skjor was going to drown his brother. Skjor held Farkas under the water as long as he could, while leaving only his eyes and nose above level. By the time Skjor had come out he was shaking and pruned, as was his brother. 

They ended up taking Farkas to the closest healer they could find after breaking camp. Thankfully Riften was not far away and they were able to find a healer easily enough. The water had brought down the fever just enough to help Farkas survive; the healer had said that he most likely had died if not for the act. It kept the fever at bay long enough for her herbs to take effect. It still took a week until Farkas was able to travel again, let alone move or speak, but they eventually got home by the next month’s end. 

Vilkas stopped washing the rag as he went over the memory again. After a quick glance at the river he was certain it was deep enough to submerge Husk without the difficulty of having to kneel into the water. As long as he could manage to find another foothold in the silt the plan was sure to go easily. The rag was hastily abandoned on the shore as Vilkas hurried back to the tent.   
Husk had not moved much since he had left, and the sweating had not gotten worse much to Vilkas’s relief. His charge was still resting, though looked breakable and pale against the brown furs below. His hair draped over the furs in long matted strawberry streaks. The braid had been undone during his transformation, though there was more to worry about now than a simple braid. 

Vilkas kneeled next to the lad as he prepared to pick him up. Husk gave him a confused look as he awoke but did not struggle as he felt the arms reach under him. Carefully he was moved so that he was sitting up; making it easier for Vilkas to get a decent hold. He slipped an arm under Husk’s legs before using his other hand to wrap around the lower back.   
Pain began to hit at Husk from the movement, making the trembling start again. Husk could not hold back a groan. 

“Ok Husk, I’m going to do something that won’t be pleasant, but it should help. I’m going to need you to trust me and not move, alright? It’s very important you listen to me.” 

Husk gave Vilkas a weak smile through squinted eyes.   
“Alright Companion,” he muttered tiredly; the smallest hint of another hiss of pain trailing at the end. Vilkas said nothing as he lifted up the Halfling. 

The movement made pain shoot through his wounds though did his best to not move, and instead stiffened as every injury was awoken. He became dizzy as he struggled to keep his head raised while the world spun around him. The last of his strength left as his head fell to rest limply on the other mans shoulder. It was embarrassing being held, let alone like a bride, but there was nothing he could do. 

Vilkas stayed quiet as he felt Husk’s head rest next to his own. Stealing a glance down he gave Husk an understanding nod. The lad had been through enough without the Companion making a joke about being carried like a damsel. Husk gave an apologetic smile, and as he did Vilkas noted that there was no trace of anything feral though the injuries left him helpless. 

He still had Husks trust.

Vilkas was careful on his walk to the shore and did his best to ignore any small sounds Husk would make when jostled around too much. Vilkas took his time to carefully step over rocks and brambles he had not paid attention to the first time. The rocky sand on the shore cushioned his steps as he eventually reached the bank. Vilkas carefully adjusted Husk in his arms as he stopped on the edge of the waterway; making sure the grip was careful, but also tight enough he would not drop his charge into the water to drown. Husk looked at the water nervously as Vilkas began to step into the river. 

“I won’t drop you just as long as you don’t move. Its not going to be pleasant, like I said, but it should help.” Vilkas spoke calmly as he walked out deeper into the water until it was up to his waist. 

He was already shivering himself and did not envy the lad he was about to submerge. The water rushed around his armor as it weighed him down against the current. For a moment he slid, but soon yet again managed to hold his ground.   
Husk did his best to not move has he was lowered slowly into the freezing water, yet gave a small gasp fallowed by a grimace from the sudden change.  
Small traces of blood spilled into the river in red swooping swirls before disappearing downstream. 

Vilkas gave a grunt as he lowered Husk more until just his face was showing above the water. Husk’s mouth opened in surprise, but was quickly shut before water could get in. He closed his eyes as he tried to remain still, clearly in pain.   
Husk’s hair floated on the water’s surface, letting Vilkas get a good look at the young Halfling’s face. Two tiny knicks rested on one of his ears and as he looked closer he noticed the slightest point to the tips. Under said ear was a scar that would have normally been hidden by his hair. The scar dipped down onto the neck in a clean thin line. He continued to study the small details as he waited for time to pass. 

He supposed that the lad was considered attractive except for now in his frail state. There was no way to prevent it as Vilkas began to wonder what Husk could look like. Once he was healed and had some weight on his bones he was certain to look like a decent warrior. Due to his Halfling blood though he would most likely bit tiny for Nord standards; he stood half a foot shorter than normal Nords already. The only thing that held back his chances with romance were the burns that shone brightly in the moon light.

Time passed while the water swelled around them. Husk did not have much energy to talk though the look on his face said enough as it eventually relaxed. He was relieved of his pain as his entire body went numb. The sound of the river was the only thing heard above their breathing or their chattering teeth. 

Vilkas attempted to make small talk to break the silence, as well as to make sure Husk was still conscious. 

“I guess this counts as a bath, and by the Divines you needed one!” 

It was true as days worth of dust left Husk’s skin and the blood finally came undone from his hair. Husk only hummed in response as he enjoyed the numbness. A child like smile rested on his face, happy and content. It was a big change from the mood in the bandit’s tent. 

It made Vilkas smile, even managing to make him no longer care that his arms were beginning to lose feeling. The small relief for Husk was more than rewarding enough to see. 

The back of his mind reminded him though that the lad was still a killer.

Vilkas wondered just how long the dirt had been encrusted on Husk’s skin after all as the last of it drifted away. If they had been standing in still water there was no doubt it would have become as brown as the bucket from the mill had. 

Vilkas chose his words carefully before finally asking, hoping he could avoid offending Husk. 

“When was the last time you washed? Surely they at least let you do that if nothing else.” 

The lad kept his eyes closed as he answered the question, his pleasant smile fading slightly. “About a month… I’d get a bucket then be left alone, but the last caretaker stopped bothering at all.” 

He finished with a whimsical sigh as the water caressed his scalp, clearing it of oil and grime. If Vilkas didn’t know better he would have guessed it was Husk’s way of changing the subject. Husk flicked his head lightly to send his hair swirling.   
“Actual water…”

“Caretaker?” Vilkas asked cautiously. “What do you mean by Caretaker?” 

Husk brought his hand up out of the water and used it to wash off his burn. He still felt ill though the numbness made him able to move without much pain. 

“Whoever would be tasked to caring for me….” His smile faltered. “Last one was a Dark elf, he wasn’t exactly friendly. He got picked ‘cause he knew how to handle us. He killed three werewolves that month alone, so they thought he’d be the best for the job.”

Vilkas grunted in reply for him to continue.

“The Caretaker would make sure no one died in their cages, throw us some random bandit corpse to eat, and make sure none of us thought about escaping.”

Husk swallowed back the hatred that was beginning to rise in his voice. 

“He refused to let any of us out unless it was to kill something, Silverhand traitors, villagers, more bandits, anyone they wanted dealt with. You couldn’t not listen to him either ‘cause when he told you to move you moved, when he’d call you’d follow, listen or end up with Silver stuck in your gullet.”

Realization hit Husk hard as memories from those days played across his face. Vilkas felt an instant sense of unease as Husk fell silent. He was staring up at the sky with empty eyes. 

“…Aela was right about me being their hound.” 

His face gave way to humiliation as his hand fell back into the water with a plop. Husk’s eyes fell as well, shame mixed with disgust clear to see. 

Vilkas had hoped Aela’s words had not sunken into Husk’s mind, but sadly they had. Husk’s eyes were far away now, lost in memories.   
Without a word he quickly dunked Husk fully under the water before bringing him up just as fast. He couldn’t let Husk recede back into the mute they found him as. 

Husk gasped with his eyes fully open as he stared at Vilkas in astonishment. Vilkas scowled at the lad, but it quickly turned into a lighthearted grin. 

“If you can criticize yourself you must be feeling better. Now, let’s get out of here and back in front of a warm fire, sound good?” 

With that Vilkas carried him back to the bank and eventually the tent after he remembered how to move his numbed legs. A tickle began in his chest, but he did not mind, he was just relived to see the Halfling finally acting like a person. Even if he had only talked about some Elven bastard Husk had still shown anger and his fighting spirit at someone other than Aela.

‘No, Aela wasn’t right. You are a wolf not a common hound. With a fire like yours you’ll be ready for Jorrvaskr in no time.’ 

***

Vilkas had already laid Husk in his bedroll as he started up a new fire. A small stack of twigs and branches lay next to him as he began to feed the growing blaze. He had been careful to not make much noise, as to not wake up his charge; but eventually realized the noise wouldn’t matter. Husk was sleeping soundly as if nothing had happened. Vilkas envied the lad who was able to sleep so well, not only with his injuries, but with the beast blood that dwelled in his veins. 

Vilkas found himself looking back at the sleeping lad, only to find that a smile had crept onto his face as he watched. The last few days had been unexpected to say the least, and now he shared camp with an ex-Silverhand Werewolf. He didn’t regret saving Husk as he began to know him, but guilt did bother him whenever he would think of Aela. The entire situation could have been handled better. Had he not jumped on her actions or just let her walk by on the trail things may have ended differently.   
Then again had she not interrogated Husk there wouldn’t have been a problem to begin with. It had been her idea after all to take Husk to Jorrvaskr and to Elriah, but he was the one who decided to spare Husk. He could always blame it on her should she bring it up again. 

Though could he really blame her for her actions when she realized what Husk had done? Vilkas begrudgingly admitted to himself that had he been in her place Husk would not have left the camp alive.

Once Vilkas was content with his fire he began to shift through the supplies that lay in crates about camp, left by the now deceased bandits. Most of them were full of stolen goods. Another held an assortment of scavenged Stormcloak armor with blood still present on the metal. A few canteens of water were found as well as bottles of Honningbrew Mead, Skooma, and the occasional wooden tableware.   
It smelt horrible near the boxes as he continued to look for any sign of any healing potions. It was a putrid smell that burned his nose as something continued to rot somewhere out of sight. 

He stopped to look in the neighboring crates. The smell was almost too bad to bear. The fact alone that it could attract the noses of hungry or curious predators gave reason to find and dispose of the source. Let alone to give himself some relief. 

His hands lifted another lid as the smell became stronger. Flies flew out of the crate as Vilkas looked into its contents. It was a crate of what looked to be rotten fish and scraps of food, most likely kept to use as animal bait or Slaughterfish chum. Vilkas did his best to block out the stench s he grabbed the sides of the box. He threw the entire thing into the river with a huff and let it wash away. 

The camp’s smell instantly improved. 

He continued to dig around the newly opened crate in front of him. Finally after minutes worth of searching he pulled out a small red potion. Relief washed away his previous worry as he quickly tucked it under his arm and looked for more. One after another more potions turned up among the junk and bottles. Soon five of them were under his arm as the search finished. He hoped it would be enough. 

Vilkas carried them to the tent and sat down next to Husk’s bedroll. Then he lined up the potions next to himself to be right in his reach before waking Husk up with a light shake of the shoulder. Surprisingly that’s all it took giving how deeply he had been sleeping. 

Husk looked up at Vilkas as he woke up, his eyes red and inflamed. The soak in the river had only done so much to relive the fever, and it came back just as hot only an hour later. Husk blinked to clear his eyes, looking startled. Once he realized that it had only been Vilkas he relaxed with a disgruntled huff.   
Vilkas lightly ruffled his wet tangled hair in greeting before helping him sit up, careful to mind the stitched wounds. 

Husk was stiff, making small noises of complaint as his body ached.

Vilkas got Husk into a sitting position though it was apparent Husk wouldn’t be able to stay like that for long. He already was swaying slightly and his eyes were falling shut. Vilkas moved and offered his side to the Lad. Husk eyed him, very confused as to why the Nord was beckoning him closer.   
“You’ll need some help if we want to get another potion in you,” Vilas explained. 

At the mere mention of a healing potion Husk lit up, though still did not move closer. It took some coaxing but once Husk was using Vilkas as support he was handed one of the potions. The small body fit well to his side. Vilkas decided to use the others sparingly over time, just in case Husk’s condition worsened. Who knew when the next time he could find more would be.

Husk gave Vilkas a small smile in thanks before trying to pop the cork. His scarred hands held it tightly as he pulled at the stopper. His fingernails had stayed gone after the transformation; making it even harder to uncork the flask as tender as they were. 

Vilkas said nothing as Husk began to look determined. He didn’t expect Husk to manage to open it, but at the same time he didn’t want to take the chance away just yet.

He continued to pull and pry yet nothing seemed to change. After he failed to open the bottle Vilkas took it back gently and did it for him. A guilty look spread onto Husk’s face as he took the bottle back into his hands.

“Don’t worry about it. Just drink up.” 

Husk began to sip at the potion, careful to not lose a drop. Vilkas gave a laugh as Husk’s face contorted into a look of disgust. 

Once Husk swallowed the last of the mixture he handed the empty bottle back to Vilkas. Carefully he edged himself back down into the bedroll, with little help from Vilkas. Vilkas was sure he wouldn’t have accepted more help anyways. Between being carried and needing Vilkas to lean on, it was apparent Husk’s ego had taken a few hits. He needed to continue to take care of himself when he could. 

The Companion shook his head as the Lad tried his best to be independent. Vilkas carefully pulled the fur cover lightly over Husks shoulders, though no protest was given. It would be stupid to let him catch his death from a chill.   
Husk sighed as he began to feel the healing effect spread throughout his worn body. His eyes already heavy fought sleep, waiting for the pain to lose its edge. 

On impulse Vilkas began to ruffle Husk’s hair in gentle swirls, massaging the scalp. This brought a happy mumble from Husk whose eyes quickly fell shut. He didn’t seem to mind in fact and even moved into the touch. Vilkas continued gently rubbing until he felt Husk give way to the land of sleep and relax. Just as quickly as he had woken up Husk was back asleep now snug in the furs and warmed by the fires glow. 

Once Vilkas was certain his charge was sleeping he quietly got up to stretch. He paid no attention to what he had just done inside the tent; instead he glanced around the camp in search. His eyes finally landed on a bunched up pile of fur. Off a ways was a small bedroll that had once belonged to a bandit, now lumped and tossed aside by the fight that had taken place. Vilkas picked it up and shook it, sending dirt into the air. Sadly it smelt of the drunken bandit that had slept in it, but Vilkas had no other choice. It was clean enough of any mysterious stains except for the slightest traces of blood from the fight. 

Still moving quietly he went back to the tent and laid his bedroll next to Husk’s. They were separated by a good foot in length, giving them both the room they needed. He undid his armor, leaving him in only his under clothes which was a long tunic and airy pants. His armor was laid next to his side, ready to be put back in a moment’s notice. Vilkas made himself as comfortable as he could on the thin bedroll and hoped that his beast blood would allow him rest. 

 

\---

 

Vilkas awoke as he felt a hand slap him hard across the face. He leapt up from his bedding in surprise. His hand instantly found the hilt of his sword. The assailant was nowhere to be seen as he eyed the tent’s room; instead his eyes landed on Husk shaking wildly. It took him a moment to recognize what was happening. 

Quickly he tried to hold Husk’s arms still as the rest of him thrashed. Husk’s eyes were rolled up into the back of his head and his mouth hung open. The fur that had been covering him was now twisted around his legs in a mess.   
Once he realized that Husk would end up hurting himself Vilkas had no choice but to sit and pick him up; holding him close to his body as he pulled Husk onto his lap. One arm held his legs pressed together while the other held his torso and arms. It was similar to how he had held him in the stream, but this time there was no way to make Husk be still. Vilkas brought his own knees up to help put pressure on the shaking lad. He had done it once for Kodlak when he had collapsed, though there was no Elriah now to help him hold down the shaking man. The wounds from Kodlak’s thrashing alone proved just how bad the seizures could be.  
The healing potions had been scattered about the tent from the movement, but one vial sat close by. Vilkas wasn’t sure if it would help the seizure, but it was the best, if not only chance he had. He let go of Husks arms long enough to grab the potion. 

Quickly he opened it and did his best to pour it down the werewolf’s throat. Though some missed most of the liquid made it. As soon as he was done the bottle was tossed aside and his arm went back to holding Husk’s. Husk began to whimper and gurgle as he shook, his eyes remaining rolled. 

Seizures were never a good thing, it either meant you were far too sick or that you had received one too many blows to the head. Kodlak had had them often near the end. He had almost chocked on his own saliva at one time during an episode. 

Carefully on that note, Vilkas propped Husk’s head up on his own chest to make sure he wouldn’t choke as Kodlak had. 

“Shh,” Vilkas mumbled, unsure of what else to say. 

The shaking continued as he held him. 

“Get a hold on yourself Husk!” 

Gurgling eventually gave way to barely audible words as Husk began to mumble, his mind lost in a terror and sickness. His head trashed from side to side as if trying to stop whatever he was seeing. He began to say names that were quickly run over by words that spoke of werewolf attacks. Vilkas could only listen as he held the convulsing form. Husk began to babble about a search party, mumbling warnings to run. Vilkas tightened his grip on the boy and looked down at him. Soon Husk’ words returned to gibberish. 

Vilkas didn’t know what to think as he held Husk. The potion didn’t seem to do anything to help stop the seizure, leaving him with nothing else to try. He began to hope to the Divines that Husk would pull through, or at least die without much more pain. Should Husk die here at least he would be free, Vilkas decided. He would bury him nearby before returning alone to Jorrvaskr. 

It felt like an hour had already passed by the time the convulsing slowed, leaving Husk shivering and covered in sweat. In reality it had only been a minute or two at most, yet they were the longest minutes Vilkas had ever felt. 

Husk’s arms and legs still twitched sporadically. His head hung to his side. Vilkas’s shirt was drenched in sweat now but he didn’t care. Husks eyes closed and Vilkas began to lightly brush the Lads hair back into place comfortingly. The nonsense continued to spill from Husk’s lips, but it was gradually getting slower. He was about to try and get husk back into his bedroll but was stopped as a hand tightened loosely around his arm. 

“It’s alright Husk, you’re safe, just relax and let ole Vilkas get you back to bed.” 

Husk’s blood reddened eyes opened, though could not seem to focus as even his eyes trembled. He stared on confused and tired but let go of the shirt as he let himself be lowered back into the bedding. 

“…cud’nt warn ‘em...” Husk’s voice cracked as he took a small strained breath. “I dn’t want’a die.” 

Vilkas shudder at how young and pained that voice had sounded as it uttered such miserable words. He shushed the lad and tucked him in again, this time tighter into the fur sheet to help restrain any more sudden movements. He had no idea what to say back to the sick person before him. Vilkas knew quite well that Husk could die that very night; there wasn’t the option to just say nothing. For all he knew those would be the last words Husk could ever hear.

“Aye Husk, I know. This is a fight you have to win. Try and recover.” 

Husk’s eyes closed. He coughed up some bile as his body tried to relax. The exhaustion form the convulsing slipped him away into very light unconsciousness. 

The companion waited next to his charge as he watched the young face soften. He still twitched under the furs, yet nowhere near as badly as before. Vilkas didn’t be bothered to collect the scattered Potions knowing they would still be there by morning. He moved his bedroll closer to Husk, so that he would be able to help again in a moment’s notice.   
He did his best to push back all the thoughts that ran through his shaken mind. Try as he might he could only fall into a light slumber as his Beast blood boiled.


	6. The Satchel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Been very busy so it may take a little bit for the next chapter as well

Laughter rang out as the Dragonborn struck a regal pose in the middle of the road. Elriah tried to look as snooty as possible, making Athis practically double over as he clutched at his sides.   
“Do you get to the Cloud District very often? Oh, what am I saying, of course you don't,” Elriah mimicked with a flick of his hand. “Smelly travelers like you shouldn’t dare step foot in our grand hold, let alone track mud on our doorsteps.”

Farkas caught on quick, pointing at his husband with a grin. 

“Nazeem, right? That coward hasn’t dared to show his face after that.”

Athis choked, trying to hold back another guffaw of laughter. He sniggered as he stood, still flushed. “Never in my life have a seen a man so terrified as he was when the guard told him that our Nord here was the Dragonborn, and the new Thane of Whiterun. 

“I do have to admit I enjoyed seeing him scurry off after that. I wonder what ever happened to him?”

“I dunno’, but what I do know is that we should get back to finding Vilkas.” Farkas walked by Elriah and Athis at a brisk pace eyes forward. His shoulders were just a little too tense it seemed as Elriah hummed in displeasure. 

Elriah’s eyebrow rose in question as he turned around to watch his husband. 

“Farkas dear, you wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with his disappearance would you?”   
Farkas snorted at the idea as the two Companions in turn began to follow. “You kidding? If he were dead half of Whiterun would be thanking me by now.” 

Elriah sped up until he was walking in front of Farkas, turned, and continued to travel backwards without hesitance or difficulty. 

“I never said he was dead or that he was even killed. All I said was that he disappeared and asked if you knew anything about it.”  
Farkas shrugged and continued to look down the road past his husband who was still waiting for an answer.   
“Farkas….” His voice rose, far too sweet and loving as he smiled tenderly. “What did you do?”

Farkas grunted, unhappy that his husband hadn’t given up. Then again Elriah was never one to let a question go unanswered.   
“Told you, I didn’t do anything. You were your own man and I knew you could handle it yourself so I left it at that.” 

Not a trace of worry or deceit crossed Farkas’s face as he continued on his way. Elriah frowned at this. 

Athis rubbed his chin, eyeing Farkas. “Well then, if you didn’t do anything who did?” 

“Nazeem could have just left you know, he was probably embarrassed and fled as soon as he realized what an ass he was.” Farkas pointed out.

“Aha!” Athis’s red eyes glittered as he squinted happily. “You’re covering for someone!” 

“Oh, I think you’re right my Elven friend!” Elriah slung an arm around the two Companions. “And who pray tell did what, dear heart of mine?” 

Farkas winced at the endearing words, out of embarrassment and dread. His lover may be sweet, but when he would call him that of all things it was assuredly a guilt trip. Farkas sighed, his brothers watching closely with badly hidden grins.

“Fine, I’ll tell you, just don’t let them know or I won’t hear the end of it. It was Vilkas. He caught Nazeem that night right outside his farm. Must have said something good ‘cause that morning he fled for Riften.”

Elriah’s brows rose quickly in surprise. “Vilkas, out of everyone in town who could have done it….” He seemed almost touched though was quick to question his husband again. “I thought back then your brother hated me, wanted me to march right back up that mountain and to leave you the hell alone?” Elriah laughed baffled at the mere thought. “I can recall all of the times he’d tell me off, even told me to go sod off and get eaten by a dragon one time.” 

“No arguments there, Vilkas hated everything about you. Only reason he didn’t do anything was ‘cause Kodlak told him off.”

“Then why’d he do it?” Athis inquired, arm also draped across his shoulder.

Elriah nodded and pointed his chin at their Elven companion. “What he said.”

“That’s what I asked him. Tried to pass it off as protecting Kodlak’s healer at first but after a while I got him to crack. Apparently only he could be an ass to Elriah, no one else. That’s how I knew he was warming up to you.”  
Elriah chuckled and patted his husband’s broad shoulders. “Let’s get back to finding that brother of yours.”

\---  
Elriah and his companions’ steps slowed to a stop. Farther down the road lying in plain view in the middle of their path was a shaggy form of a beast. The daylight did little to identify it as they crept closer. The strange creature took up a large portion of the cobble path as it stretched out its bulky body. 

Elriah couldn’t help but laugh at the sight before him moments later. 

Athis was running down the road while being chased by a large angered bear, and that bear was being chased by Farkas. Athis had tried his best to sneak around the bear that had been lying in the center of the road, hoping for a surprise and easy kill. He was only a foot away when the beast woke up. Once the bear started chasing him Farkas had tried to kill the bear with his greatsword but missed. 

Elriah lost sight of them as they ran out of sight around a bend in the road. 

“Oh the great Companions of Jorrvaskr, fearless and cunning…” Elriah sighed before quietly laughing yet again. There was no need for him to worry; his comrades could handle a bear on their own. If they had helped him kill a dragon there was little reason for him to hurry now to help with a meager grizzly. 

He caught up to them shortly to find Farkas already beginning to skin the bear while Athis stood somewhat nearby seemingly offended. It was apparent that Farkas had made the kill, leaving Athis quite visibly irked. Speed could be useful in battle, but his trusty daggers against an angry bear would never fair well, while the great sword apparently did with little trouble at all. 

The Trio was approaching Eastmarch as the land began to give way to snow and geysers. It was only a little past dawn, and had been almost three days since they had left Whiterun’s familiar hold. The traveling Companions were hoping to come across their brother soon as their supplies began to turn stale. It would be a lie to say they were not used to the finer things from being cooped up in Jorrvaskr for so long.

Their departure had been delayed as Elriah made preparations and spoke privately to Aela. The Yarl had called for a meeting as well, calling for a decision on what to do with the surrounding camps of bandits. The minute the simple decision to rather bluntly kill them all was decided; Elriah slipped out of the towns doors brothers in tow. 

Farkas smiled at Elriah for the first time since they received the grim news of Vilkas’ disappearance. Elriah’s heart warmed at the sight, thankful that his husband had found something to think about other than what happened to Vilkas. 

“What do you think Elriah, should I sell the fur or keep it?” Farkas held a part of the pelt up for inspection. 

Though happy for him, the harbinger could only roll his eyes at his husband’s question. He flailed his arm sarcastically as if annoyed. 

“You already have a lot of furs at home, why don’t you sell it and use the gold to get them made into something useful? Like a blanket or armor lining.” 

Farkas’s smile only grew at his sarcastic antics. 

Athis began to pull teeth and claws out of the carcass. 

“Yeah you’re right. I do need new lining in my boots.” 

Elriah sat down on a fallen log as the other companions worked on the bear. He took the time to pull out his bag and check the supplies. His hidden satchel rested on the bottom of the bag covered by a false bottom lining. Above the satchel’s hidden chamber rested a journal and quill, as well as a handmade inkwell amid other things. His hand caressed over the satchel as their mission came to mind.

Elriah took out his journal and began to scribble on a clean page. He began to sketch the sight in front of him, taking time to shape the burly build of the bear and husband. He sketched Athis as well, and took time to get the Hawk like darkened features down perfectly. 

By the time the bear was done being skinned and the meat taken from its bones, two hours had passed. The companions went back to the road and continued their journey, supplies well stocked with bear meat and Athis with a pocket filled with fangs and claws. 

 

****

 

Husk stirred awake as Vilkas came back to camp, dropping two Slaughterfish by the fire. 

“They’re fresh, don’t worry. They strayed too close to the shore while I was cleaning my blade, so I decided to teach them a lesson!” Vilkas laughed full heartedly at his own little joke, coaxing a small humored laugh from the injured Halfling as well before he drifted back to sleep, leaving Vilkas to start and tend to the cooking fire. 

It was midday as Vilkas sat in front of his fire, scorching the Slaughterfish he had caught. The warmth from both the sun and the fire was uncomfortable at best, but they couldn’t eat the fish raw. Behind him Husk was lying on his stomach in the tent resting peacefully, his arms folded and used as a pillow.   
It was as if the convulsing attack had never happened, but Vilkas knew better than to hope it was just a bad dream. Husk was acting as if it hadn’t occurred, so Vilkas kept from bringing it up. There was a chance that Husk had no recollection of it or what he had said, and perhaps it was best left at that.

Husk’s fever had still yet to break, but any sort of bleeding had thankfully stopped. Sadly infection had settled into the gash on his head as well as in the back, much to Vilkas’s dismay. He had searched the bandits supplies yet had only found another small healing potion that would only aid in closing wounds but do nothing for the fever nor the infection. 

Vilkas prodded the fish with a stick as it seared. As the fire licked at the fish Vilkas’s mind began to wander over the thought of Husk’s recovery. When would it would be safe for Husk to break camp and head for Jorrvaskr, he wondered? The fever would possibly take another few days to break, and after that it would take time for the new wounds to close enough to not reopen while traveling. 

The infection was the biggest problem. He feared the chance of another spasm attack as well. It was foolish to hope things would go easily but he had no other option than to pray to the divines’ for things would go smoothly from there on. 

Vilkas did not have long to think as a familiar voice broke his train of thought. 

“Smells good,” commented Husk as he was lulled awake by the aroma. 

Husk had been drifting in and out constantly throughout the days. Vilkas fought a smile as he continued to cook the fish. 

Of course Husk would wake up in time for food. 

“Aye, it should be ready soon enough.” 

Vilkas stretched and grunted as he popped his back, making Husk flinch. 

“Sorry for using the good bedroll …” he apologized, wincing at the sound. 

“Think nothing of it, you need the rest more than I do after all,” Vilkas replied. 

Husk said nothing as he began to watch the fish sizzle on the fire. Vilkas pulled the cooked fish out of the fire a while later and placed it on two wooden plates that had been found in the supplies. As he got up he carried the fish into the tent. 

“So Husk, how do you feel? Any better?” Vilkas ventured as he put the food down as he relaxed.

Husk sat up stiffly with help from the companion. 

“A bit, my head isn’t hurting as bad. My limbs feel like lead though.” 

Husk chuckled to himself in embarrassment as he slowly sat up. 

“Actually my everything feels like lead now that I think about it.” 

Vilkas responded with a gruff chuff of his own, suppressing the smile from Husk’s childish quip. 

Once he was happy with how Husk was sitting he handed him one of the plates. There was no pause between the offer of food and the acceptance. Husk had gotten over the careful way he would accept food, instead he would give it no thought and take it without worry. It was a good change to see.

Thanking him with a smile Husk slowly began to pick at the fish. Careful and slow to avoid the sharp bones and to prevent upsetting his already queasy stomach. 

The fish took little time at all to eat. 

Once they were done Vilkas sat back and watched Husk lay back down onto the bedroll. Husk watched him as well from the corner of his eye, though had no idea what to say to or do now that they were actually alone and fully awake. 

The thought was mutual. 

It was a bit awkward for them both, but neither did anything to stop it. Husk was lying on his side with an arm propped up to hold his head while studying his other hand’s scars and burns. Vilkas was sitting cross-legged a few feet away, staring out of the tents opening. 

“Can I ask you something?” Vilkas ventured after a while. 

Both were relived the awkward silence was finally over. Husk nodded as he turned to face him. 

“What’s it like to you, the beast blood?” 

The question made Husk hum as he thought of how to word it. He felt safer talking to Vilkas about such things than he did Aela, that much was apparent as he still lay relaxed. 

“Its there, but it’s not constant. Well, it is…I just don’t feel the pull from it much. I’ve never had a lot of trouble with it. Being a beast, it’s all I really know. There is no separation between me and my instincts.” 

Vilkas nodded as he inquired more, though the wording troubled him greatly. 

“What about when you transform? I’ve noticed you can control your turnings, have you always been able to do that?” 

Vilkas backtracked hurriedly as the question made Husk grimace. His face hinted bad memories lurked just under the surface. 

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to; I won’t force you. This is just friendly chatter after all, not an interrogation.” 

Husk gave him a forgiving, though troubled smile before changing the subject. 

“How long have you been a companion?” Husk’s light voice showed no sign of his previous worry.

Vilkas shrugged in return. “My brother and I have been companions since our adopted Da brought us to Jorrvaskr. So about thirty to forty years give or take.” 

This made Husk curious as he moved to prop himself up on his elbows and flipped onto his stomach. 

“You have a brother?” he asked, surprised. 

Vilkas smiled as he thought of his twin. 

“Aye, a twin named Farkas. He’s a bit bigger, thing is I inherited the brains while he got the bulk.” 

They shared a chuckle at the notion. Husk smiled more as he asked about their lives. Apparently the thought of a bulky Vilkas was rather funny to him from the grinning. 

“Children are hassle all their own, let alone two of them! Did you two get into trouble a lot?” 

Vilkas could only grin and nod. “Aye, that we did and we did it well. I still do apparently, cause troubles sitting right next to me!” 

A playful glare was shot right back as Husk tried his best to look insulted. 

“Well trouble can’t believe you’re so old!”

Laughter filled the camp as Vilkas truly laughed full heartedly. Husk was laughing as well, his raspy laugh sounding like bells compared to Vilkas’s loud rough guffaws.

Vilkas wiped tears from his eyes as he regained his composure. He was happy to see Husk being curious as well as talkative, let alone laughing. He hoped that it meant that recovery was closer and that Husk would continue to show signs of his personality. It was more enjoyable taking care of someone that could actually hold a conversation, instead of a lifeless body after all. 

They sat together in the tent as they relaxed in the fires glow. 

“I wonder what Aela would do if I went back with you,” murmured Husk. 

Vilkas scowled at the thought. The atmosphere went from playful to downright depressing. Husk had said it in a sad tone, but there was no mistaking the edge of curiosity. He really wanted to know and not out of fear, but of pure interest. He genuinely wanted to know what would be lurking and waiting for them. 

“It doesn’t matter what she thinks, but what does matter is that we get you back into society. There’s more to life than cages and chains.” Vilkas huffed. 

Husk smiled briefly. “Jorrvaskr sounds nice, but…is it a good idea? She did have a point.” 

Vilkas scowled harder as he tried to word his thoughts. “Jorrvaskr is open to anyone with a fire burning in their hearts. I’m sure you’ve heard about it from the Silverhand. You’ve definitely got the fire in you to have survived as long as you have. I have little doubt that you’ll fit right in once we get you patched up. There is a good chance if nothing else that we can at least help you get on your feet.” 

Husk scoffed under his breath. “The Silverhand said you take jobs to deal with bandits to eat them alive and that everyone there is a werewolf.” 

Husk jumped in surprise as Vilkas gave a sudden bark of laughter. 

“We don’t eat bandits! Who knows what sort of deceases they carry. No, not everyone is a werewolf either; I’d hate to think what Tovar would be like as one! He’s a drunken fool but he’s nice enough. I can only imagine the drunkard of a werewolf stumbling right into a border patrol.” 

The rest of the day droned on comfortably spent sharing stories of Jorrvaskr as the sun began to set. 

Vilkas had been in the middle of telling a story of how he had taken down a mammoth when he looked down at his charge. Husk had fallen asleep with his head still propped up in his hands. Carefully Vilkas moved him so that his head was resting comfortably on the bedroll. He was amazed at how deeply the werewolf seemed to sleep with his beast blood. After a moment of studying the sleeping face, Vilkas got up to look for dinner, leaving a sleeping Husk in the tent. 

 

****

 

“So Farkas, what did Aela say this guy looks like again?” 

The trio was walking down a steep hill as they watched for any signs of their missing comrade. 

Farkas shrugged in response to his husband’s question. 

“She said wed know him when we see him. He’s got a big ole burn on his face, can’t miss him. Wearing mining clothes too she said.” 

Athis broke into the conversation, adding in what he had overheard as well. 

“I heard her say he was as thin as a twig, but as tough as a beast when he wants to be. Said we should consider him dangerous and be guarded when dealing with him. He’s even got a collar from the Silverhand.” 

Elriah hummed as he tried to picture the man, though he scowled at the mention of a collar. Aela had mentioned he was the Silverhand’s pet after all. 

“How old about, did she say?” 

Farkas shrugged, “thirty-two, at least that’s what he told her. Could be him lying though.” 

Elriah made an Ah sound as they continued to walk. He had no idea what to think of the man that was described, but if Aela thought he was a danger then he probably was to some degree. Elriah’s mind wandered to his satchel as they continued on foot down the path. 

Athis used the tip of his dagger to clean the dirt from under his nails as they walked. 

“What’s the plan of action exactly? Is it get in and get out with our brother or see this werewolf for ourselves?” Athis had asked the question though quickly received a glare from Farkas in return. 

“If my brother chose him over his own Shield sibling then there’s a reason, and I want to know why.” 

Elriah nodded at his husbands words. 

“I want to see him for myself, but if push comes to shove we put Vilkas’s safety above all else.”

This made Athis frown. 

“And what exactly do we do when we meet this werewolf? Share a bottle of mead?” Athis’s voice dripped of sarcasm as he pretended to become tipsy, eventually leaning on Farkas who shoved him away playfully. 

Elriah grinned, only to lightly hit the back of the Dark Elf’s head.

It was getting dark by the time they reached a fork in the road, leaving them in a pinch. 

“Well now, looks like we’ve run into a bit of a problem. Any idea which way Aela said they came from?” asked Athis. 

Farkas shook his head. 

“Nope.” Elriah eyed the path, though he knew that any footprints would be covered by now. Perhaps he should have asked Aela a few more specific questions. 

“What do you think Elriah?” asked Farkas while he glanced down both paths. 

Elriah didn’t answer and instead he directed the question to Athis on what he thought. 

“Well the only sensible option is to split up. That way we don’t risk missing them,” he answered. “But if we do that leaves one person to look on their own.” 

Elriah stared down the paths as he thought over the options. Both would lead to the same mill in the end, yet only one held the missing Nord they were searching form. If he went on his own there would be a chance he would be the one to find Vilkas. It was a more preferred outcome so that if he needed to he could put down the werewolf without the others having to see the poisons effects. On the other hand, if Farkas and Athis found them first they may be attacked by the beast. Then again they could stay together and just pick a path to check, risking picking the wrong one and missing Vilkas entirely.

“Alright,” Elriah began, “Athis why don’t you go with Farkas down the left road and I’ll go down the right. If you find them send one back while the other keeps watch, or you could yell I suppose if nothing else.” 

Farkas didn’t look happy at the arrangement, but agreed to it anyways. Elriah had a reason and whatever that was he knew to respect it. He patted Elriah’s arm before leaving with Athis as they went their separate ways. Elriah tightened the straps on his back as he started walking, satchel secure and ready for what could await.

\---

“I can’t believe were hunting down your Brother, he should know better than to just run off!” Athis grumbled as Farkas continued to scout around. They had been walking for a ways though had found no trace of Vilkas nor the stranger they were warned about. Farkas could only nod at his shield-brothers words while he continued to grumble on. 

“What if this is some sort of trap and we’re walking right into the Silverhands waiting maws?” 

Farkas shot down that idea quickly. 

“Nah, Alea would have told us if she suspected something, and a trap still wouldn’t say why Vilkas left like that. The only thing we need to worry about is finding him and taking care of the other wolf, even if that means using Elriah’s poison.” 

This made Athis glance at him in surprise. 

Farkas returned the glance with a sad smile as they continued to walk. 

“Elriah only brings that specific bag when he thinks we’ll need to put one down. I know he doesn’t want me to worry but I’m not stupid, at least not that stupid. He hides his tools in the bottom so no one sees. I won’t lie I, want to talk to my brother before we do anything else but who knows. Elriah will do the right thing either way.” 

Athis could only gawk at his fellow companion, surprised that Farkas wasn’t blind or ignorant to the situation as thought before. 

They continued to walk and search for any clues indicating their comrade was nearby, or for signs of the charred up werewolf. At one point they thought they spotted Vilkas, but turned out only to be a traveling bard. It was safe to assume that he was not the silver hand’s werewolf either. Not even Vilkas’s drunken singing could make up for the horrible crooning they could still hear behind them.   
The foliage at the sides of the road were thinning now as they searched, making it easier for them to check the sides of the path. 

Farkas roughly grabbed Athis’s wrist and yanked him down closer to the ground. 

“What in the seventh hell are you doing-” Athis began, but quickly fell silent as he saw what Farkas was pointing at. 

A fire could be seen however it was hard to tell if anyone was even near the flame that were still a good distance away. 

Athis nodded in understanding as they made their way through the foliage, leaving the path behind. 

“Remember, utmost caution. Don’t be afraid to use your blade if necessary,” Athis whispered as they began to crouch as the fire got closer. As they approached they noticed a few bodies making their way into the camp as well, clothed in furs and steel. 

“You look in the camp and ill look around the outskirts. Signal if you see anything but don’t hold back if you fight. I’m going to make sure that there’s no one else snooping around, and then I’ll join you.”

 

*** 

 

Vilkas was tired but continued to carry the deer back to the camp, ignoring the strain on his shoulders. It was a somewhat small buck but the meat would prove useful, therefore making it well worth the weight in his mind. He had caught deer upstream while it was distracted as it drank, thankfully needing a single arrow to take it down. Vilkas had thought about skinning it on the spot but decided otherwise once he realized how quickly dark had fallen. 

He could see the fire of the camp slowly getting closer, though he stopped once he saw a figure moving closer to him. Without thinking he threw the deer at the approaching person before drawing his sword. The corpse hit the man hard and knocked him to the ground. The goon gave a huff as the wind was knocked out of him. 

Vilkas heard a twig snap as someone approached from behind. 

As Vilkas turned to attack the new enemy his blade came in contact with flesh, dropping the assailant. The bandit fell to the ground as well before Vilkas put his sword through their throat. The khajiit was dead before he hit the ground, the sword still lodged in his gaping gullet. 

Vilkas let his attention shift to the man who was struggling to get out from under the deer. As he looked closer he spotted a familiar pair of red eyes glaring savagely at him. For a moment he thought his own eyes were playing tricks, though his ears weren’t as the elf began loudly cussing. 

“Athis, is that you?” The figure stopped struggling and was quickly relived of the carcass that had been pinning him down. Vilkas quickly helped the Elf stand. 

Vilkas had no idea whether he should feel relief that one of the Companions was there or to feel dread that it was Athis. The two had never quite gotten on overly friendly terms. Either way he was glad that it was a companion instead of another bandit.

“ ’Ello Vilkas, I see your doing well. And here you had us all worried that something had rattled your head and made you frolic away with a Silverhand mutt.” Athis sneered as he glanced his brother over, miffed from the deer incident. He brushed dirt from his shoulders as he spoke. 

Vilkas knew that it was Athis’s way of saying that he had been worried, but he didn’t care for his tone. 

“I’m fine, and there was no frolicking involved. I was planning on returning as soon as I could once Husk could manage it.” 

Athis raised an eyebrow 

“Husk? That’s what you call it? Aela was right, you have gone mad.” 

Vilkas corrected the companion gruffly. “Husk is a fine Lad; he’s just new to freedom is all. Now, I doubt you came out here on your own, so where, and who, is our Shield-sibling?” 

Athis cracked a small smile as he pointed his head towards camp, slight concern visible on his grey face. “Your brother is investigating the camp as we speak and Elriah is just down the north road. Once he heard there was a stray he decided to come.” 

The mention of Elriah’s made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on edge, as did the mention of his brother in the camp. Farkas would not harm Husk, at least he hoped, but if Elriah was nearby it meant that Elriah himself had decided to come find them, and that did not suggest anything good for Husk.

It meant Elriah didn’t want to let Husk any closer to Jorrvaskr than he already was. 

Before Vilkas could worry further a shriek pierced through the quiet. Vilkas fetched his sword and sped back towards the direction of the camp, forgetting completely about his deer or the Brother he left behind. 

***

Husk awoke in the tent as he blinked the sleep from his eyes. His arms were cold as he shivered, the night air reaching him. It was still dark as he carefully propped himself up to look around the camp. 

Vilkas was nowhere in sight much to his surprise, and dismay. As he moved to sit up fully he noticed that the fire was low, most likely the reason for the chill that had woken him. The fur blanket wasn’t keeping out the cold as much as he would have liked, though he was grateful to even have one. Upon the suggestion of Vilkas he had shed his shirt for the night; letting his stitches breathe. The chill nipped at his exposed skin causing goose bumps to appear. 

Stiffly he managed to use his arms to help sit up before pulling himself onto his knees. He waited a moment making sure his head would not disagree too harshly with the movement. The dizziness had yet to creep back so he went to the next step. 

Husk got up and waited until he was standing steadily enough on his own, using the tents pole to help keep him grounded. Husk’s legs burned from the little effort. Normally he would have simply dealt with the cold. The cell had never been warm; always holding a bitter chill however he had been able to handle it. 

This was different. Husk knew he would only get colder if the fire went out. Squinting he eyed the distance between himself and the camp fire to see how many steps it would take. In all honesty the simple risk of stumbling was far better than catching a cold. There was no masking the feeling of sickness as it lurked in his bones. He was ill; and there was still the strong chance that he would die. Getting any sicker would seal his fate, though Husk was happy to die in a forest than in a cold murky cell.

Vilkas could still be gone for a time too, so there was no choice but to take matters into his own hands. 

Husk walked stiffly out of the tent and made his way towards the fire. Each step swayed and his head began to ache, but he persisted. The camp was eerily lit by the low flames. Odd shadows reached out and mingled together as they danced by the edges of camp. 

Carefully Husk sat down in front of the dying embers and caught his breath. There had only been twelve steps from the tent to the fire. It was twelve more steps than he wanted to take. A violent shiver ran down his arms, making him rub them before placing another log from the stack into the fire. His legs throbbed from the brief use, while his head started to pound. Proud warmth swept through him regardless as he realized that he had walked on his own and helped out without needing any help himself. The feeling warmed him as much as the now burning fire did. 

Husk sat at the fire quietly, merely looking into the blaze. Its gentle orange tongues lapped at the wood and shed light onto his burnt features. His thoughts began to pull back towards how he got his burns. There had been so much burning silver surrounding him. Fire only had enhanced its evil demeanor.

Husk’s eyes caught the sight of someone walking into the camp, forcing him to abandon his memory. He had assumed it to be Vilkas, covering up his previous thoughts with a smile. The smile returned into a look of dismay as the stranger made his way into the fires light. 

The Imperial bandit gave Husk a crooked toothed smile as he sized up the lad in front of him. The light gave way to shining crooked teeth stained yellow from years of hard drinking. Wiping his bent nose on his sleeve he motioned for his cohorts to join him. 

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a beggar,” he chuckled as a two more bandits came up behind him. A Nord joined his boss followed by an old scraggly Orc. Husk stayed by the fire and stared at the approaching men. 

“A well off beggar to boot,” added one of the criminals. 

The Nord was similarly young as Husk, though there was no kindness in those eyes. The same could be said for the war ravaged Orc whose arms bore thick long scars. 

One of the men began to go through the crates while the Orc approached Husk. 

Much to the surprise of the head bandit Husk said nothing, only eyeing the bandits over.

“He’s a bit of a slow beggar too me thinks.” 

The Orc bandit kicked dirt at him, but he did his best not to flinch. Husk knew it would be a bad idea to turn into a werewolf to protect himself, so he decided on the next best thing. 

Lie until he had a better idea. 

“I wouldn’t go through those boxes if I were you. They’re rittled with disease.” 

The head bandit threw his head back with a laugh and shrugged off the warning, certain it was a joke. Another small healing potion found its way into the Imperials hand. Its red gleam was splattered into the dirt as it was tossed to the ground, shattering the glass. 

Husk shrugged his shoulders and let his head roll on his shoulders in a relaxed manner. 

“Alright, suite yourself. If you get turned into a drauger or have your blood drained by a vampire that’s your fault.” 

This made the bandits pause and look at him. Their faces a blend of confusion and concern as they tried to make sense of what he could mean. 

Husk smiled inwardly as his plan went into play. He was scared but certainly desperate enough to try. He had to play this part well or he’d end up dead. What a horrible way to go, killed by bandits right after leaving the Silverhand. He would much rather go by sickness.

Without a word Husk smiled. Werewolf fangs were sharp and protruding, even glimmering in the light. Now he had the bandits’ attention as they turned to fully face him. 

“It’s been a decade since I’ve fed on bandits….” He dragged his tongue against the point of his teeth, eyeing them lustfully. “Then again you’ve probably already been infected by the disease from the boxes….” He tilted his head to the side, and pretended to be disappointed. His lower lip even came out slightly as he gave a small disinterested pout. 

The head bandit pulled out a rusty sword from his belt. Husk tried to keep his composure as his sat in front of the fire, eagerly eyeing the bandits. 

An inkling of a scent reached his nose.

Vilkas. 

There was no mistaking the earthy smell of his pack mate. 

Husk quickly decided to buy more time until the trained fighter could help him. He didn’t feel quite so certain of this plan to keep it going for too much longer now that the bandits were staring at him.

Husk’s eyes went towards the Nord bandit who was beginning to shake. He gave a false look of concern, bringing his eyebrow to a knit. 

“The first thing the sickness does is make you feel weak at the knees, then the trembles start and your heart begins to beat so hard it eventually just gives out. A pity really.”

All color left the Nords face. 

Husk could smell the Nord’s fear and could practically hear his heartbeat pound cowardly against his ribs. If he really was a vampire there would be no way for him to be any danger to them anyways in his condition. Not that they needed to know that.

The head bandit laughed nasally at Husk before coming closer. It was a raspy sound that almost reminded Husk of snooty royalty. 

“Look here you freak, there’s no sickness or vampires, you’re just some beggar with teeth and now you’re just going to be a dead beggar! If you think me and my men here would fall for such a dirty trick you have another thing coming! When we get done with you there’ll be nothing but ribbons!” 

Husk saw the silhouette of Vilkas come up behind the other bandits. There was still too much distance between the companion and the leader to assist him. As the Imperial raised his sword Husk pulled out Aela’s dagger. He hadn’t planned on dying just yet after all and sure as hell wouldn’t die by the hands of such scum. 

A new shriek pierced the camp. 

Surprised by the sound the leader snapped his head around, forgetting about Husk. Quickly Husk wrapped both of his hands around the daggers base as hard as he could and prepared to jump. 

The Nord bandit’s head, who had been the one to shriek, was now flying off of its shoulders. The head had barely touched the dirt as the Companion leapt at the other assailant. The thug was quickly impaled by a steel Great sword. 

The Orc grabbed the blade that was sticking out of his midsection in shock. Blood gurgling from his throat overran his dying curses. 

Husk took the moment and leaped, digging his dagger into the back of the Imperial with a yell. Upon instinct he pushed his entire weight into the strike. 

The blade scraped against bone as it sliced though an artery. He could already smell the blood as his own heart pounded in his ears.

Husk fell forward with the body; tumbling off with a huff as they hit ground.  
The body thumped as Husk rolled away from the imperial, dagger still in hand. 

Once the dust settled the eyes of the imperial could be seen staring straight ahead whilst blood trickled from the corner of his lips.

Husk prodded the bandit. He was indeed quite dead. Husk looked up and smiled. Not only had he managed to distract the bandits he had even spilt the blood of their leader. It was a fine hunt in his eyes; even injured he and the other werewolf had made them pay for setting foot in their camp.

He expected to see Vilkas glowing from the hunt, but the smile faltered as another stranger came out of the lining. 

The outline gave way to a man who was slightly taller and much burlier than Vilkas, though looked and smelt very much the same. The same war paint was smudged around their eyes, though the longer hair hid most of it from view.

Husk stared at the stranger, uncertain of what to do. There was little chance that Vilkas’s twin was out in the middle of nowhere he decided. But the strange werewolf had assisted him, saved him really. Perhaps he was not a threat. 

The Nordic man stared back at him, his face calm and undisturbed by the killing he had just done. The clattering of armor was heard as the Nord plopped down roughly in front of fire across from Husk. He was glaring at Husk now as his mouth pulled into a frown while he looked about the camp. The same armor as Vilkas had worn protected him though was fully adorned with more scratches and dents. 

Who ever the man was he was built for fighting.

Husk found the confidence to speak as he move away from the body to sit back down, thoroughly exhausted from the stabbing. 

“Companion..?” Husk paused though continued when the man gave no sign of correcting him. “Thanks for the help back there …I didn’t expect someone to show up.” 

The man looked back at him before nodding. Husk felt a bit more relaxed as the stranger still had yet to correct him on being a Companion.

“It was nothing; Bandits are the easiest bastards to kill. You could repay me by telling me where my brother is though.” 

Husk deadpanned. “…You’re Vilkas’s twin?” 

Farkas nodded sharply.

“He left a while ago while I was sleeping and hasn’t come back yet.” Husk swallowed hard as soon as the rushed explanation left his lips. Talking was not his strong point. 

Farkas did not believe him. He squinted and looked him over once more, but nodded anyways. 

Husk had not expected Vilkas’s twin of all people to wander into their camp and save his life. Now that he was face to face with another Companion he realized he had no idea what to do. Did they act more like the Nords they appeared to be, or did they partake in some of the more Werewolves ways? 

“Alight then, guess I’ll wait here. I’m Farkas.” 

Husk took the introduction as enough evidence to simply go along with the introduction. At least that would be easier to handle than the normal Werewolf greeting, less fighting was involved. After the fight he wasn’t sure he could transform anyways.   
“Thank you then, Farkas.” Husk nodded his head quickly in gratitude.

Farkas huffed at him once more, almost amused at his attempt to be polite or by the fact he had bothered to at all. 

Farkas pointed to Husk as he leaned forward. 

“And your name is…?” 

Husk felt his face warm up from embarrassment as he realized he forgot to introduce himself. 

“Husk, my name is Husk.” He inwardly groaned as he realized how stupid he had sounded. Talking really wasn’t his strong point.

Farkas nodded in acknowledgment, and Husk nodded back. Farkas didn’t bother to point out the oddity of the name. Nervously Husk looked around the camp, hoping that Vilkas would return soon. 

 

Farkas was surprised at the man he had found in the camp. He matched Aela’s description perfectly but he didn’t see how he could be a threat. He didn’t look like the killer type, far too weak to do much damage, but the wounds on Aela were proof enough, as was the dead bandit. 

“So, why’d my brother leave with the likes of you and not come back with his Shield-sister?” Farkas asked, his gruff voice made it sound intimidating. 

Husk shrank down slightly as he responded. It was clear that any courage he had felt while facing the bandits had vanished, faced now by the fellow werewolf. A rather large werewolf who had just decapitated someone mere minutes ago, in fact. 

“I don’t really know, Vilkas brought me here after the fight with Aela. From what I know he wasn’t exactly happy about…” He trailed off as Farkas glared down at him.

The response had only made Farkas’s face darken. 

“So you really did attack Aela, you admit it.” 

Blood left Husk’s face as Farkas stood up. 

“If you did anything to my brother ill make you regret it. If you didn’t you and I will be fine; but if you did ill break every last bone in your body. Don’t think I won’t put a few cracks in for Aela either, you hear?” 

The words made Husk shrink down more in fear as the man towered over him. Fighting bandits would be one thing, but fighting Vilkas’s twin would only end badly for him in a number of ways. Farkas knew the runt understood that perfectly.

Surprisingly Farkas sat back down and pulled the bag off of his back. After digging through it he pulled out a bottle of mead and offered it to Husk. Surprised by the sudden change of the terrifyingly large man in front of him, Husk could only shake his head. Farkas shrugged and began to drink the mead himself. 

“It would have helped the pain, and it looks like you could use some with those cuts all over you,” Farkas commented. “Nice diversion with the Vampire thing by the way.” 

“…thanks.”

Farkas was about to comment more on the diversion when another Nord burst through the foliage, sword drawn, huffing and red faced from the mad dash back to camp. 

“There you are! And here I thought this whelp did something to ya!” 

Farkas’s face broke into a smile as he raised the mead in greeting. Vilkas stood there and stared at his brother, then to the bodies before glancing at Husk. If he didn’t know better Husk looked almost guilty. Husk looked towards Farkas, to the bodies, then back to Vilkas and nervously gave Vilkas a halfhearted wave of his hand. 

Without another word Vilkas stashed the sword away and stood next to his brother before stealing and downing the mead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any errors you see be sure to tell me, I'll correct them asap. Creative criticism is always welcome


	7. Halfling

When Athis came bounding out of the bushes Elriah had been gripped with fear. It was almost a relief when Athis explained that bandits had been found at the camp they believed their brother was in. But when questioned, Athis was unable to say for sure if they had been true bandits or Silverhand scouts. The fear stayed with him as they began to run back down the road. Sounds of fighting had found him just as Athis had appeared.   
Elriah demanded to know what was going on.

“We found their camp, but a small group of bandits show up. Now, I don’t think they’re Silverhand or I wouldn’t have left. I sent Farkas to deal with them while I came to get you,” Athis explained. It wasn’t quite a lie. 

“Did you see Vilkas or the other werewolf?” 

Athis shook his head grimly. 

“Only saw Vilkas but not the other one. He seemed adamant that the werewolf isn’t a threat. Your bastard brother-in-law looks like hell rolled over on him, hasn’t slept I take it.”   
Elriah frowned as they reached the split in the road, and headed down the right path. He had hoped to find them first. At least this way Farkas had hopefully been able to kill his favorite prey. As long as they were actual bandits and not the Silverhand Farkas could hold his own until they got there.

Elriah jumped over a log as they took a short cut.   
“How was Vilkas, was he hurt at all?” 

Athis laughed as he responded. 

“No, he looked fine. In fact he even threw a deer at me!” 

\---

Elriah could see the fires soft glow as they got closer to the camp. No sounds of fighting could be heard, though the smell of blood clung thickly to the air. As they panted they could almost taste the copper, leaving Elriah to turn and cough into his shoulder. Heightened senses be damned. 

Apprehension about simply walking into the site made Elriah pause. There was a stranger in that camp, a werewolf who could be unpredictable no less. It wouldn’t be wise to just walk in. There were no bandits, and there was no reason for them not to, though the werewolf was still a threat. Elriah was left with little choice. He had come all this way to see who Aela had warned him about after all, but now that the bandits were gone it left only the stranger to be dealt with.   
The bag on his back felt heavy as he thought of his satchel.  
Athis pointed out the silhouette of Vilkas and Farkas against the fires light, though his attention fell on the shape that sat across from the brothers. It was clear that whatever fight had gone on was over and done.

“That’s the one Aela spoke of. Doesn’t look like much from here.”   
Elriah mumbled in agreement and began to watch the being closely. The stranger Athis called Husk seemed relaxed as he sat near the fire, not acting or appearing hostile to the men across from him. The voices were too far away to hear clearly, but Elriah was certain the Werewolf was talking to one of the brothers. He could make out Vilkas moving his head in agreement to something while Farkas laughed in response. 

As Elriah watched, Farkas began to make a stabbing motion into the air, making the other werewolf do the same. Vilkas then went back to cutting something near the ground while the other two continued their babble. They were comfortable with the stranger it seemed.   
With a scowl Elriah began to approach the camp, followed by Athis. The shrubbery caught on his wolf armor as it was pushed aside. Shoulders back and head held tall he fell back into the role of Harbinger easily, appearing as authoritive as he could. The other werewolf needed to know he was not one to be messed with. Things would go a lot smoother if there weren’t any fights over his authority. There was always a chance he would just accept his statue without issue, though it was slim. Elriah could never be too sure when it came to stray werewolves after all, let alone one who was supposedly injured. 

Vilkas and Farkas could be seen clearly now. Farkas was happy, grinning ear to ear while his brother did the same. Soon all that was left between the separated Companions was the last row of brambles.  
Elriah took a deep breath, letting it linger in his lungs before he let it out.   
“Let’s go see how our shield siblings are and meet this Husk.”

 

***

 

Vilkas could feel his face as it began to ache from grinning while Farkas told him of Husk’s meeting with the bandits. 

“He pretended to be a vampire, even did the fang thing, see? He did a real good job at it too, he almost had me convinced! Anyways, after I took out the other two he sprang up and stabbed the leader right in the back with his dagger. He took him out no problem, and the bandit was dead before it even hit the ground!”

Husk flustered at the praise and looked down, pretending to be interested in the deer carcass before him. 

The deer had been brought back to camp and was now being skinned by the brothers. Husk had made an attempt to help, but Farkas had shooed Husk off ordering him to rest instead. Husk had been slightly miffed at not being allowed to help the men who had saved him, but did not argue as he sat across from them. Vilkas could read him well enough though from the small glares his way.

“It’s good to hear he’s familiar with a weapon at least,” Vilkas admitted. “Though I wish I had been there to see it.” 

Farkas laughed as he picked up a stick before holding it like a dagger, putting his butchering knife away for safety. 

“Hey, I said he killed good, not that he knew what he was doing. He was holding the dagger like this, see?” He began to stab the air while holding the stick at an awkward angle. “He knew to stab with the pointy bit but that’s about it, he had to put his entire weight behind it just to get it in, even used both hands.”

Husk picked up his own dagger carefully. The drying blood was dark against the intricate carved steel. Without hesitation he ran the knife through the grass by his side, turning the soft green into a blazing red. He frowned in disgust as the blood stood out accusingly.

“How are you supposed to do it then?” Husk asked. 

Vilkas raised an eyebrow at the unexpected question. Apparently Husk had already gotten used to the towering brute Vilkas called a twin if he could ask him something already. It had taken over a day to get Husk to ask him about Jorrvaskr, and here he was already chatting up his brother. He supposed it was a step in the right direction. 

Farkas grinned and he began to slash the air again. 

“First of all you only need to hold it with one hand, not both. Second of all you use your entire arm, not just your wrist when you slash with it. Puts more strength into it that way and isn’t as easy to lose grip on.” 

Husk began to copy Farkas, this time using only one hand. He changed grip more than once as he tried to balance out the feeling of his hands. Soon the blade felt almost comfortable as he held and gently cut the air with it. 

“There you go; you’ve got the hang of it!”

Vilkas nodded in approval as Husk continued to correct they way he handled the blade. Farkas smiled at the Halfling before glancing at his brother. The on hard edges of his face softened as Vilkas watched proudly as Husk handled the dagger. He lifted another bottle of mead to his lips, hiding his smile from view. Husk was smiling as well, proud to be learning.   
Vilkas wondered if it was the first weapon he had ever really used before other than tooth and claw. The more Husk could learn to defend himself without his beast the better. Once he was able to do that there would be little need for him to ever use his wolf. Perhaps he would even give it up entirely. 

“You don’t seem like a bad whelp; I can see why Vilkas decided to keep you.” 

Vilkas choked on his mead. Keep Husk? He had not decided to keep Husk. Vilkas snarled and punched his brother’s arm roughly, accompanied by an angry scowl. 

“I didn’t decide to keep him, he’s not a dog! I just decided to help him get away from those Silver bastards. There’s a difference and you would have done the same.” 

Farkas gave his brother an apologetic smile and put up his hands, but said no more as he returned to skinning the deer, leaving Vilkas to do his best to ignore the worried glances Husk gave him. Husk didn’t need to worry about anything more than healing, or fear Jorrvaskr as another cell to be forced into. 

“Not a bad looking Buck you caught there, a little scrawny to feed our small army though.”

The voice was warm and carefree and caught Vilkas by surprise, snapping his head up as he quickly turned to find the source. 

Husk froze as the new men came into camp, quickly looking towards Vilkas. Was there more Companions lurking around that Farkas hadn’t mentioned? More strangers had appeared through those bushes that night than he cared to count. 

The Harbinger stood tall and proud as he pushed the last of the bushes aside, making his way into the camp. Healthy and fit there was no doubt that he commanded and received respect from the twins. 

Dread crept up the back of Husk’s neck as the man’s scent reached him. Herbs and spices, as well as grave yard soil and creatures that he could not name or describe. Elriah smelt of werewolf power and powerful magic that held a dusty wood like aroma. He was not a man Husk ever wanted to know, let alone have stare down at him as he was now. Husk’s hair stood on end.

There was no doubt that Husk was almost ready to bolt as soon as he saw the elf come into camp next. His legs tensed, preparing to make a mad dash if needed. There would be no use to run, Companions had yet to harm him but three other werewolves surrounded him now. Red eyes sneered at him as they eyed him over; clearly not impressed or amused by his presence. Husk felt as if he had offended the elf just by being in his line of sight. 

Vilkas coughed to catch Husks attention. He gave Husk an encouraging smile to show there was nothing to fear before introducing the men; though he felt anything but encouraged to see his leader. There was a tightness around the smile that Vilkas knew all too well. Elriah may be calm now, but he was there to judge and already had an idea of what Husk was. A damaged Companion was proof enough.  
Vilkas cleared his throat as he prepared to introduce them. Husk flinched slightly at the sound.

“Husk, this is Elriah, Harbinger and leader of the companions. The elf over there is Athis, also a companion. There’s no reason to worry, they are fine good people.”   
Vilkas hadn’t overlooked how startled Husk had become. The way his legs twitched and fingers dug into the earth was clear enough for him. Husk let his hands lessen up their forceful grasp on the dirt though made no other move to relax.   
Farkas smiled as Elriah sat down next to him, quickly tossing his stick dagger into the fire. Elriah greeted his husband with an affectionate pat on the shoulder, though was quickly drug into a one arm hugged. There was no kissing or any other forms of affection after that. It was as if they were an old married couple, just content to be near again. Athis stayed standing at the edge of camp and began to keep watch. 

Husk lowered the dagger slowly next to him before looking back to the intimidating Harbinger. 

Elriah’s lips were pressed into a thin line. His eyes traced the wounds on his face and arms, frowning slightly as every wound began to appear. Husk did his best to not meet his eyes as the man began to openly frown, opting instead to look back at the carcass.

The fact that Husk didn’t attempt to attack was something Elriah noted. The stranger was most likely calm by nature then. It would save Elriah quite a bit of effort if he didn’t have to fight him. That did not change the fact that he did not like the sight before him. The werewolf was far too thin for his size, painted in scars, and appeared positively sickly. The infection and burns on Husk’s face clearly stood against the pale skin as it melted into reds and dark rings of disease.  
If he were a cruel man the word Pathetic would have come to mind. Elriah felt his stomach turn as the collar came into view, holding a tight grasp around Husk’s blistered throat. He could only imagine what pain that was bringing Husk now.

Aela had not lied when she spoke of horrendous wounds. 

The thought of putting Husk down due to his injuries came to mind. It would be a mercy. The wounds were all inflamed and clearly tainted. Cleaning them would be painful, let alone any treatment or stitching. If he survived that the werewolf would be bedridden, cooped away and unable to run free. For some that did little to bother them, but for Husk who had been found in a silver cell there was no doubt how that would end. Elriah could not help but wonder if Husk would remain as calm if he even tired to assess the wounds. 

Husk lifted his eyes briefly to peer at Elriah, uncertainty and mistrust clear to see. Husk appeared lively enough, even though he should have been by all means miserable. Perhaps he was.

So this was the person who had caused so much chaos in just a week time. This was the werewolf who had harmed one of his Companions and caused another to vanish completely. A morbid curiosity arose as Elriah watched the man. What was it about this stranger that made his own wolf pace even now? It was not uncommon, his beast tended to react to everything as it was held back by his Dovahkiin spirit leaving it always on edge. It was not a yearning or an aggressive premonition either. Neither Elriah nor his wolf knew why the worry arose.  
Elriah wanted to meet the lad first to get a feel for him before making any decisions. Vilkas had seen something in Husk to defend him so fiercely after all; something Aela had as well, though instead of compassion it had brought fear.

Elriah was pleased to see that the werewolf was not initially aggressive though did not let his guard down. The werewolf before him had indeed attacked one of his Companions, and if what Aela said was true, he had also killed many other werewolves. The calm could easily be a facade. 

As he looked closer he noticed the shape of the werewolf’s ears, and how his eyes were also tilted in the slightest way. What cheekbones were showing that wasn’t from starvation seemed well rounded and graceful. Aela had been right, Husk was a Halfling. Though whether it was a true split of bloods was something Elriah didn’t quite believe. Husk’s features would have been more exaggerated, and the cheek bones would have been higher and more pronounced. Then again there was the chance that his Nordic side had overpowered the leaner stealthy Elven blood. But heritage was not important now. 

Husk caught on to Elriah’s observing. His posture turned tense. The mistrust was mutual Elriah noted. He would have to keep a close eye on him. No matter how calm a werewolf was as soon as it felt cornered they almost always fought back. 

Vilkas cleared his throat, catching both Elriah and Husk’ attention and breaking the tension that hung thickly in the air. Elriah had not noticed, but Farkas was rigid beside him and glancing at him from the corner of his eye.

Elriah turned to Vilkas, eyebrow arched in question as he waited for the nervous warrior to speak.   
“We’ll need to take a look at you next with all that coughing you’re doing Vilkas.”  
“Just some dust in the air I’m sure Harbinger.”   
“Somehow I highly doubt that,” Athis sniffed.  
Vilkas shot Athis a glare. “As I was saying, I am glad you three arrived safely, these roads are full of bandits it seems.”  
Farkas shrugged. “Not like they aren’t normally anyways. Least there aren’t Highwaymen running around, now those bastards are annoying. Bandits you can kill no problem.”  
Vilkas nodded. “I suppose you’re right about that.”  
“Thank you for your concern, Vilkas.” Elriah spoke. “What else did you want to say?”   
“I’m not sure what Aela’s told you Harbinger, but Husk-”

“-What my brother wanted to say is Husk here needs a healer, and bad.” 

Elriah raised an eyebrow at his husband, and was met in return by a fierce protective frown. Farkas already deemed the lad as a fellow Nord and was protective over him. He had always been the one with the soft spot for anything small or injured. Elriah had found him slipping scraps to the stray dogs outside Jorrvaskr quite a few times. To have him also decide to protect an injured man on his brother’s behalf was not hard to believe.   
Elriah turned his attention back to the werewolf before him. 

“Would you mind letting me get a look at you?” Elriah ventured. He stayed sitting as he asked for Husk’s permission. 

Red inflamed eyes squinted as Husk blinked unsettled by the question. It was understandable, a strange man that he had never seen before was now offering to check his wounds, a man he clearly didn’t trust. Husk’s eyes flickered to Vilkas as if seeking council. 

“Elriah here is a fine man and healer; he knows what he’s doing.” Vilkas held out his hand as he motioned towards the companions about them. “None of us would be standing here today if it wasn’t for him.”

Husk’s eyes dragged back towards Elriah, looking him over. He did not get much time to think over the offer. Cracked lips frowned as Vilkas reassured him again, this time his voice more serious. 

“I understand if you don’t trust Elriah, but if you trust me you’ll listen. Let him take a look.”

Mistrust melted away into guilt. That had sounded eerily close to an order as well. Vilkas had never quite ordered him before, just given light suggestions, and Vilkas knew it. This however was no suggestion as Vilkas gave him a hard glower. He left no room for argument; he wanted Elriah to check him over and that was that. 

After a moment Husk begrudgingly agreed with a nod of the head, earning a thankful smile from the Companion who had saved him.   
Elriah stood with a quiet grunt. The ground had apparently been rather comfortable. “Thank you, I will be thorough though ill try to be quick.”

Elriah began to walk towards and behind the lad, somewhat at a slow pace to see how the werewolf would react. Husk became visibly tense the closer he became but did nothing to make Elriah question his stability. The fact his fists were clenched was more of an instinctual reaction more than an outright statement Elriah supposed. 

Stitches crisscrossed every which way, every base was red and crusted. They did little to close the gouge that had apparently started it all. It left Elriah wincing from the mere sight of it. 

“Hircine above, how did you manage to get that?” 

Husk stayed quiet as Elriah knelt down behind him, and began to lightly touch the stitches. Elriah had not missed the way Husk had lifted his head when he heard the daedric name. He knew the lord of the hunt’s name quite well it appeared.

“That’s nothing compared to when we found him, you could even see his backbone! Damn flies were practically crawling around his insides.” Vilkas explained and spat in repulsion from the memory. 

Farkas made a sound of disgust next to his brother and shuddered. Athis remained quietly keeping post, though his elf ears twitched at the comment and his lip turned up in a scowl. Elriah grimaced as he repeated the question for Husk.

“How did you manage to get a wound like this?”

“It was an axe.”

It had been said so quietly Elriah had barley heard it. But he had and there was no doubting the mistrust behind it. He didn’t want to tell Elriah more than he had too.

Elriah raised an eyebrow. 

“An…Axe? This looks like a bit more than an Axe strike, Halfling.” 

Husk shifted uncomfortably at the name but answered anyways. “It was a Silver Axe. They wanted to see how well it would work.” 

Elriah could only shake his head in amazement, and displeasure. It was a blatant lie, but he did not press further. He would have questions for Vilkas when they had a moment to talk alone. He needed to know more about how they had found the Halfling. 

“These stitches are horrible; whoever did those needs to learn how to use a bloody needle correctly!” There had been no anger in the voice, if anything it had been meant as a joke to break the ice. Husk did not relax or laugh, only staying still as he felt Elriah’s hands moving over his wound.

Vilkas cleared his throat yet again. “I did them. I found the supplies in the camp.”   
Elriah continued to check the stitching. He could see puss in the wound, and as he got up to check the lads face he found another surprise. The cut on the werewolf’s head was beginning to blister. He had noticed it the first look over, but now that he was close enough he could practically smell the infection. He carefully took hold of Husk’s chin and began to move Husk’s head to get a better look. Husk said nothing and complied, moving his head as it was directed. 

A chill crept down Vilkas’s spine as Husk let himself be moved like a doll. He didn’t seem all that unfamiliar with the action though his eyes looked down and away with a squint. Then again Vilkas himself found it amazing that his Harbinger had even grabbed a werewolf’s chin in the first place, let alone used it to move their head. 

“Now, what happened to your forehead?” 

When Husk did not respond quickly enough Vilkas answered for him. “That was from Aela’s boot.”

Elriah frowned as he moved Husk’s head again. “I take it you got it during the fight then?” 

Athis scowled as he eyed Husk. Husk eyed him right back with uncertainty. “Aela said she fought him while he was a beast. I can’t see her kicking a werewolf in the head. She’s headstrong, not stupid.” 

Husk chewed his inner lip as he ignored Elriah’s question, clearly guilty. It was something that both Vilkas and Elriah noticed. Instead of letting the question be left unanswered Vilkas spoke up for him yet again. He did not want the fight to be brought up so soon before Elriah could see Husk’s worth. It would do no good to label him as a threat before seeing how gentle the lad really was. But he couldn’t help but feel the slightest tinge of anger that Husk himself was not helping more. Didn’t he realize that this was what saving him was supposed to lead up to?

“It was after the fight actually. As soon as he was human Aela knocked him out…He’s had some troubles since getting that. I’m not happy to say it but he had a seizure during the night and it wouldn’t surprise me if that’s why.” 

Elriah went quiet as he let go of the lads chin. He ignored the way Husk tugged out of his grip as soon as he had started to let go. Seizures were never a good sign. 

“Vilkas, I am asking our friend here, not you. He can speak for himself; though I agree with your idea. Clear your throat again and I will take a look.”   
Vilkas grunted, embarrassment clearly showing. Elriah touched the wound on Husk’s forehead with his thumb as he checked the forming scab, making him recoil and hiss in pain. Under that his was the slightest growl that did not go unheard. Vilkas stiffened at the sound as eyes turned to their Harbinger, waiting for a reaction. 

“Easy now, Husk. I just need to assess the damage. No need to act so unruly.”   
Husk glanced at the smiling harbinger and met his eyes for the first time. They were soft and without judgment. The tension in Husk’s shoulders relaxed slightly. A shallow nod gave the Harbinger his full consent. This time he did not move when the Harbinger touched his wound again. 

Elriah was still surveying the extent of Husks’ wounds while Vilkas watched warily. Husk had previously been avoiding the Harbinger’s eyes, instead frequently glancing towards Vilkas instead. He knew that Elriah was intimidating in his own way, but for the lad to act so obedient didn’t quite feel right. Even in the Silverhand cell he had not been so meek, nor had he avoided eye contact either. Even after Aela had interrogated him he had still stared at her right in the eyes. Something wasn’t right, but he had no choice but to stay calm and ignore it for now, showing Husk there was nothing to fear. Relief washed over him when the last of Husk’s stubbornness vanished.

Farkas elbowed his brother, breaking him from his thoughts.   
“Told you so.”  
Vilkas’s eyebrow raised in question at his brother’s blunt statement.   
“You should ‘a let Tilma teach you how to sew. I was right.” Farkas was filled with smugness at that fact, practically beaming with it. Athis sneered in amusement, no doubt at the thought of Vilkas stitching a quilt like a grandmother. Tilma had raised them like her own, even teaching Farkas how to mend his own clothes. Vilkas had kindly turned the offer down, saying that it was nothing he would ever need to know, and curtly said that was a wife’s duty which had ended him up in the corner. If only he had let her show him, maybe the stitches wouldn’t have been quite so terrible. 

Elriah scoffed jokingly at the comment. “Any practice would have been better than this, Vilkas. Remind me to brush up on your field care. Let’s see here...” 

Elriah pulled his bag from his back before sitting it between himself and Husk. Soon small supplies were stacked around him as he searched. Jars of salve and linen rolls soon appeared. Elriah handed Husk bandages to hold as he went back to his bag. Husk said nothing and did as he was asked. When all of the medical supplies found their way out into the light Elriah did not stop.   
Athis turned to watch, taking a quick moment from his duty. There was no masking his curiosity as his leader fumbled with something in the bag. Vilkas looked towards Farkas who merely shrugged. 

“There we go!” Elriah sighed triumphantly, “That damn lock sticks whenever I need it I swear...”   
With a quick pull a small leather pouch was delivered. It was clearly mammoth leather as the deep wrinkles showed, and hinted to its constant use. The latch was a simple claw of some beast of yore that caught light as Elriah’s nimble fingers pushed it through the loop holding it shut. 

Vilkas’s mouth went dry as the satchel was opened. He hadn’t recognized it at first, but there it lay in his leader’s hands, contents glistening in the light. Husk handed back the bandages that Elriah thanked him for and returned to the bag. There was no way for Husk to understand what was in that vile satchel or to realize what that meant.

Farkas wrapped his hand around Vilkas’s wrist before he could interrupt, reigning him back only to see his brothers face wearing the same expression. 

“Elriah…” Farkas warned, his tone dark with worry.   
Elriah didn’t hear his husband, and if he did he gave no heed. His attention was solely on the wolf in front of him. Husk’s nose twitched as he saw the opened satchel; though it was not the herbs that had caught the lad’s attention. Small clear vials were carefully lined up, filled with many different colored fluids. They resembled Skooma with their sloping shape and tall necks. A small hollow shiv like knife was nestled in the middle of it all, a dwemer artifact without a doubt. It had a long clear tube with a needle at one end and a stick on the other that ended with a loop. Intricate carvings of the Dwemer runes and figures danced on its golden hue. 

Elriah’s hand hovered over one of the Vials, stopping as he watched Husk. Husk’s eyes squinted, as if trying to place where he had seen them before. Apparently he remembered because his eyes widened anxiously as soon as the instrument was taken out. Elriah picked up a vial carefully in response. He showed the vial to Husk for inspection, instantly seeing the change in Husk when he did. The fear ebbed away as began to watch Elriah’s hands move.

“I’m going to need to use this on you,” Elriah explained. “Its nothing bad, it helps me find what’s wrong you could say.” He was even toned and calm as he did what he could to keep Husk cooperating. “If we’re going to get you patched up I’ll need you calm while I work. This won’t put you to sleep but you won’t feel like doing much. Do you understand Husk?” 

Husk for once did not look to Vilkas for consultation.

Nor did he notice Vilkas’s panic as he presented his arm, the softer underside flesh up to the air. Farkas on the other hand did, and quietly put his hand on Vilkas’s shoulder pulling him back sharply to stop him from interfering as Vilkas tried to stand quickly. Farkas was none too happy either, clearly worried what would happen. He silenced whatever words Vilkas was about to speak with a glare. 

Elriah was perplexed as he carefully adjusted the arm. 

“Good, thank you. Now Halfling, can you stay still? I’m going to give you something to take the edge off before I go any further.” 

Husk’s lip twitched nervously as he answered, the rest of his face growing slightly pale. 

“Yes sir.” 

Elriah poured one of the vials contents into the hollow shaft of the tool. He held it in his left hand as his right took hold of Husk’s wrist, stretching his arm out straight. The needle gently prodded the skin in different areas before resting lightly on the desired spot. 

“I’ll try not to fight back,” Husk promised quietly. 

With the lightest twitch of the hand he stabbed the tip into Husk, sending the liquid into his veins. Husk winced though Elriah was quick to pull the dwemer syringe back out. He put it back into the satchel and corked the remaining liquid. Husk blinked slowly as Elriah let go and let his arm fall back to his side. He was already starting to feel the effects. 

Elriah stood up before landing his eyes on Farkas. His husband did not look happy but there was an understanding there. Farkas nodded grimly as he moved to sit down next to Husk. He already knew what to do. Farkas began talking quietly to husk as he helped him stay sitting up. 

Vilkas stared worriedly at Husk’s now slightly swaying form. 

“Vilkas, come with me for a moment.” 

***

Elriah was almost never mad, though as soon as they had left the two Companions back at camp he was practically seething with anger. His face held a tight lipped smile as the grip of his fists tightened. They walked quietly into the forest surrounding the camp, just far enough away to talk without the others listening in. 

“Where did you find him?” Elriah questioned, his tone wavering.   
Elriah was trying to stay level headed but his actions were slowly giving way to the anger that was under the surface. Aela had already given her report, but from the tone of his voice Vilkas knew better than to point it out. Elriah wanted to know where in the fort they had found Husk in, needing Vilkas’s side of the story to validate. 

“Inside Gallows Rock, in one of those rotting cells by the stairs. It was locked tighter than a drum before Aela managed to break into it. But enough of where, I want to know what was with him giving you his damn arm!” Vilkas shot the harsh question at his harbinger.  
Elriah pinched the bridge of his own nose as he sighed; trying to suppress his annoyance. Vilkas knew it was not Elriah’s fault that Husk had been so willing, and guilt followed on the heels of his anger. 

“I did not mean to question you, Harbinger,” he apologized.

Elriah merely shook his head as he let go of his face.   
“Was there anything odd just lying around near him? Did anything outside the cell look out of place, glass bits, other junk, vials perhaps?” Elriah simply let go of the fact Vilkas had yelled, and went back to his questioning. His brother-in-law had always been quick to snap. Vilkas furrowed his brows as he thought. 

“No. Nothing but dust, dried blood, shit, and corpses. Aela found a potion off a ways, but nowhere near the prison. There were dead werewolves in the other cells but nothing else stood out.” 

Elriah relax as he let his shoulders fall slightly. 

Vilkas could see his Harbinger had expected to hear something worse. The blonde Nord looked back at the camp, making sure no one had heard them. Vilkas took a deep breath before voicing his own question. He couldn’t afford to sound upset or snap again and break what restraint Elriah had put on his anger, but he question burned the corner of his mind, a morbid curiosity. 

“Elriah, were you about to poison Husk before you chose the other vile?” 

“If I was about to poison him do you really think he would give me his arm so willingly? And if I was, your job would be to leave it be, not question my decision!” Elriah quickly snapped. 

Vilkas took step back. Elriah had never been anywhere near this upset since Kodlak’s death, or when Skjor had been brought back covered in burns and silver torture. It worried him to say the least. Though Elriah kept good check on his emotions, it was never a good thing to provoke him either. 

“Now Vilkas, I need you to answer me truthfully. Your honesty won’t make me decide one way or the other about Husk’s fate, but it will help me decide how we will go about helping him should we decide to.”

Elriah’s face was grim as he spoke slowly. “Was there any other Silver clasps or collars on any of the dead werewolves?”

Vilkas’s mind went blank. Had there been any others branded besides Husk? He had not paid much attention to the dead, but he would have noticed if there was he decided. There was no way he wouldn’t have seen their sinister gleam in the Gallows prisons. 

“No, Harbinger. I didn’t see any, I would have noticed it. It’s hard to miss such vile things.”

His Harbinger did not reply as he lent against a nearby tree, watching Vilkas carefully. He changed the subject before Vilkas could ask why it had been brought up, bringing back their previous topic.

“Husk knew exactly what those vials were for. You saw him sniff at it, and he didn’t flinch away at all. He did what he was supposed to without needing to be told. He’s used to Injections, Vilkas.” It was such a casual statement said in an easy manner, as if he had just mentioned the weather instead of the poisons. Almost as if Elriah had just spoken something blatant, hinting at some sort of answer. 

Vilkas wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean. If it wasn’t poison what else could it be in that bag of death that Husk had recognized? Even the sedative could have killed him had Elriah used just a little too much. 

“I don’t know exactly what they put in him, but my best bet is that whatever it was it isn’t good. I don’t think the Silverhand would be as nice to drug him before flaying him open like that. Then again I don’t know how much poison they’d use on their prisoners” 

Elriah paused as he looked Vilkas over thoughtfully. His fingers tapped in a steady rhythm against his arm as they fell. 

“Aela filled Farkas in for me about what happened. I’m not going to ask why you stepped in their fight but I do want to know why you released Husk in the first place.”

Vilkas’s throat tightened in fear as he tried to swallow down his surprise. He had dreaded that question, and now here it was out in the open. He had hoped to have a few more days at least to find a way to word it, but now that Elriah had found him the option no longer stood. 

Elriah was watching him carefully, his old anger smothered deep down beneath the authority of a well trained Harbinger. He would be able to see through any lie or bluff. Vilkas would never lie to his brother’s husband if he could help it, but how he wished he could. The truth was just as damning as any trial. 

“I saw that he had fought to survive, and once he stopped acting feral I saw a fellow Nord.”

“Halfling,” Elriah corrected.

“Aye, halfling. I couldn’t bring myself to kill him after he fought like mad to try and escape, to live. Werewolf or not he deserved a chance at getting out of that Skeever hole alive.” 

Vilkas knew he hadn’t sound convincing though he had spoken the truth. No matter what he would say he knew it would probably fall on deaf ears as he tried to sway the harbinger. If he had seen Husk in that cell he would understand perfectly. Vilkas was a companion, his very job was to save and help others. Elriah knew that but as he stood waiting for him to continue Vilkas realized just how far fetched his idea had been. How else was he supposed to explain bringing back a prisoner, one that tried to kill their shield sibling just days ago no less? He felt his heart race as the same thought ran though his mind. Had he only lead Husk to a prolonged death?

Elriah nodded as he hummed, mulling over what had been said. Whether he believed him or not was unclear. “And what exactly were you planning to do if you got him back to Jorrvaskr? It may have been Aela’s idea at first but you were the one who kept it going after she changed her mind. We both know that you know better than to bring a Silverhand back home.”   
He frowned as he sighed.   
“In my opinion Vilkas, you and Alea should have put him down on the spot and spared him from all this.” There was no malice in his voice, just calm truth.

He held a hand up as Vilkas was about to protest. 

“He may not be one willingly but he is a Silverhand, Vilkas. That collar isn’t for show, it’s a statement. You know just as well as I that he is trained to fit their needs. There is a risk involved because of that.” 

Vilkas gritted his teeth to keep back a growl. “Husk is a good lad; there was no reason to kill him! He’s sick but damn it all if he’s going to let himself die from this, he’s more of a fighter than that! He didn’t rot in that cell for gods knows how long before he was rescued just to get himself killed before even a week!” 

“Vilkas, you know that he might never fully recover enough to be trusted. All you may be doing is giving him false hope. Do you really want to put him through that? Did you even think about what trying to save him would put him through? If he turns on another Companion you know we’ll have to put him down, and that’s going to hurt him emotionally a hell of a lot more any torture ever could.” 

Vilkas hadn’t thought about that. He refused to think about that. Husk had let him into the cell and had been thankful as he was freed. Vilkas knew he was going to regret saying what he was about to, but there was no other choice. Elriah was a good man but he was fishing for something that simply wasn’t there. Husk was no monster, he wouldn’t harm anyone else unless he was provoked as Aela had done. 

“I thought we could make him a companion.” 

Elriah raised an eyebrow. Any agitation had now melted away with the sudden statement. The rhythm of fingers stopped. 

“…Really now, a Companion?” 

Vilkas nodded. “Aye. He’s got a fighting spirit and knows his way around a brawl. I know Husk would do well in our ranks.” He had spoken confidently, his shoulders tense as he watched Elriah’s face cloud with thought. “I vouch for him, and as Aela probably told you I agreed to be the one to put him down should he become a danger. A chance at freedom is better than none.”

“I see…” Elriah sighed. His mouth became twisted in a grimace as the notion rolled around in his head. “I’ve never seen you this stubborn before Vilkas, at least in a decent non-lethal way. Last time you wanted to kill all of the silver hand, and now you’re trying to save one and keep it!” 

Vilkas’s jaw tightened at the comment, biting back words he knew would do no good.

“Do you really mean what you say about Husk? Would you carry out Husk’s death if it’s needed one way or another?” 

Vilkas nodded and straightened his posture more. “I mean it, he has a spirit I have never seen before in anyone else, and should it need to be done I will send him to the hunting grounds myself with no regret, because at least he was free among his own kind for however short the time.” 

Elriah watched Vilkas carefully as he remained standing, watching for any sign of a lie or uncertainty. There was no trace of either, just pure determination and loyalty to the werewolf. 

The air went quiet as the Harbinger stared him down. Vilkas could hear his own heat beating as the result of the mock trial was decided. His mouth tasted like bile as he realized what all he had said and agreed to. He couldn’t help but worry now if Elriah would order him to kill Husk to end his misery back at the camp.

“Well then, I guess we should get back and patch up the newest possible shield-whelp.” Elriah shrugged as he pushed himself up from the tree’s trunk. 

“…What?” Vilkas stared in disbelief. There was no way it had been that easy to convince the Dragonborn.

Elriah looked weary, though raised an eyebrow and gave a half hearted smile. “I said we need to Patch up Husk. I don’t agree with you Vilkas, I feel like you are making a huge mistake, but there is no doubt that he does at least deserve the chance to live.”

Vilkas let out a breath he hadn’t even known he was holding as he let out a baffled noise. He couldn’t tell if Elriah had been sarcastic about Husk being a possible companion, but found he couldn’t care; at least now Husk had a chance. Elriah had agreed to heal him and not put him to rest as he lay drugged. Maybe what Vilkas had vowed had been enough, though he couldn’t believe that the Harbinger had called Husk a possible fellow companion, or the fact he had allowed him to live. 

\---

Farkas had already pulled the bedroll out of the tent and had Husk lying chest down on top of it. Husk was barley awake as he groggily looked up to see the Companions return. 

Vilkas swallowed hard as Elriah beckoned for him and Athis to assist. 

Husk looked far too frail as his ribs casted deep shadows on his colorless skin. Vilkas swore that Husk had looked more alive not only hours ago, yet out in the light outside of the tent there was no debating how ill he really was. 

Now he understood what his Harbinger had meant by what trying to help Husk would put him though, or so he thought. 

Farkas had taken his place kneeling next to Husk’s legs, hands lightly holding his legs ready to hold them down. Elriah was by Husk’s side as Athis sat on the other, while Elriah directed Vilkas to sit by Husk’s head with a shallow nod. 

Husk‘s head rolled to the side as he peered up at Vilkas, looking positively inebriated. Husk looked confused as hands lightly grasped his legs and arms. 

Husk mumbled something though the words couldn’t be heard. 

On Elriah’s command Athis pulled out his dagger and began to cut away the stitches while the harbinger pulled them out as soon as they were free. 

The tips had kept clean and white though as they were pulled the line became dark strands as they slid slowly from the skin. Blood and infection clung to the stitching. 

Elriah scrunched his nose as the smell began to creep through the air around them. Rot surround them as more of the stitches were tossed to the side. 

Athis turned his head to the side and spat in disgust.

Soon the stitches were gone, leaving Husk’s wound open to the air.

Elriah carefully pulled back the scarred skin, revealing the full extent of the supposed axe’s strike. 

“By the divines,” Elriah swore under his breath. He too turned to spit as the wound stared at the Companions. There was puss everywhere. Infection had begun to eat away internally at the wounds sides. It had almost returned to the same state as before.

“Well then, this is going to take some time. If anyone needs to take a piss do it now.” 

No one laughed at the joke, nor did Elriah smile as he said it aloud. There had been little humor in his voice anyways.

“If there are no complaints,” he glanced over at Vilkas, “or unless anyone has changed their minds, then it’s time to start getting ready to hold him down.”

Farkas prepared to hold down Husk’s legs as Vilkas took hold of the arms. He nodded to his Harbinger. Vilkas was willing to help save Husk. 

The next part was sure to hurt like oblivion if the look on Elriah’s face said anything. He looked down into the wound then away, sighing as he stood. Elriah went towards the deer’s skinned remains before stopping. 

The companions stared at him as they still sat with the drugged werewolf. Confusion clear as they waited for an idea of what Elriah was doing. The Harbinger carefully checked the buck’s antlers and took one into his hand. 

“Last chance Vilkas, do you really want to put him through this?” 

Elriah’s shoulders were tense and as he waited for an answer. It was clear he did not wish to perform the surgery on the werewolf. 

“Aye.”

Elriah stiffened.

“You realize this will be rough on him, don’t you? Should he survive he will be miserable until it’s done healing.”

Vilkas swallowed hard.

“Aye.”

Elriah shook his head as he broke the antler with a resounding snap. He turned it over in his hands wearily before walking back over and handing it to Vilkas. 

“Make sure he bites down on it then, we don’t need any screaming bringing in any curious eyes.”   
Elriah was stern and made sure to look Vilkas in the eyes as he spoke. His harbinger was testing him to see how far he would really go, but there was no masking the guilt on his face or hope that Vilkas would agree to let him relive Husk. 

Vilkas felt his stomach turn cold as Elriah had mentioned screaming. Husk was drugged; he shouldn’t feel most of what would happen, or at least he hoped.

Carefully Vilkas put the antler against Husk’s lips, coaxing and telling the lad to open his mouth and bite down onto it, sealing his fate. Thankfully Husk bit down. He still trusted the Nord even while drugged. 

Husk’s eyes drifted away from Vilkas and into the forest. Should he survive Vilkas wondered if nature would call back to Husk, claiming Husk’s heart as his home. But there was no time for stupid wonderings. 

Elriah uncorked a bottle of mead as Athis held the wound open. 

Husk shrieked.

The antler did nothing as the alcohol was poured into the wound; his head shooting up. Vilkas suddenly found himself putting most of his effort into holding down his arms as Husk began to thrash against the pain instinctively. Even drugged he was still difficult to hold down, if only from the fact that Farkas and his brother were reluctant to put too much pressure on fragile bones. 

“Hold him down, the more he moves the worse it’ll get!” Elriah ordered. 

Husk whined as his head fell back down, pressing hard against the furs as a long keening noise left his throat. He breathing was erratic as he gave into light whimperings and shivers. His eyes were pressed shut while sweat dotted his brow. 

Elriah began to clean out the wound with a rag, pulling out clumps of puss that made the other Companions gag. He reached into the wound as he started to clean it, his fingers deeply rooted in the gash. 

It smelt awful. 

Even though mead had been used it did not cover the smell of the rot or the infection. 

Blood bubbled up, turning the infectious gunk red. Elriah threw the putrid puss into the river as soon as it was out before returning to clean the wound. 

Husk’s teeth were sunken deeply into the antler. To feel someone’s hands rummaging near your spine…Vilkas couldn’t begin to comprehend how painful it must have felt, even with Husk being numbed. 

It feels like Torture, a part of his mind mumbled. Vilkas shoved the though away as quick as it had came. 

Husk didn’t fight against them now, though if that was from exhaustion or the sedatives Vilkas wasn’t sure. That did not mean that Husk’s cries or hard shaking were less than before. 

The Antler only helped muffle him so much. 

Husk trembled under Vilkas’s hands, and it took all of Vilkas’s control to not look down at the eyes that were looking up to his pleadingly for it to stop. He didn’t want to see the tears that had begun to form and fall from the pain. Vilkas continued to hold Husk’s arms, though somewhat lighter as Husk could not struggle against his help anymore. 

As soon as the wound was thoroughly cleaned Elriah took his satchel into his lap, pulling out another vial. It was slightly bigger than the rest, and while the others held liquid this held more of a paste. He opened it and began to use the contents with the help of a clean rag to further clean the wound. It smelt earthy though burned to breath in, making Farkas grunt and Athis scrunch his nose. 

Soon the once red gouge was coated in greenish paste. There was no longer any visible infection, all of it smothered under the medication. 

“How’s he holding up?” Elriah asked. 

Vilkas had avoided looking down, but as he did he realized that Husk was no longer conscious. 

“He’s out cold.”

“…That’s probably for the best.”

A needle and thread soon followed also appearing from the satchel. 

\---

It had been a gruesome job to partake in, but as Husk lay unconscious on the furs, Elriah found that it had managed to help. Pale and sickly, Husk still looked a few steps back from deaths door. Husk’s wounds were now clean, medicated, and stitched, leaving only the collar to be dealt with. 

Vilkas had kept to his word and had helped how he could, though the distance in his eyes was unmistakable. He was quietly sitting near Husk as the other companions went about disposing the old stitches and covering the blood on the ground with dirt. 

Elriah hoped that Vilkas felt guilty. He could have ordered him to release husk into the hunting grounds, but he hadn’t. Elriah wondered bitterly if he was just as much at fault for Husk’s pain.

Carefully Elriah tried to slide a finger under the collars rim but was instantly met with resistance. Perfectly smooth like ebony and just as thick, there was no gap or give from the silver. Older burns were overlapped underneath the collar creating a melted seal to hold it on as well. It was entirely cruel, if not gruesome.

“Vilkas?”

The companion glanced up wearily with lips turned downwards as a frown set upon him. The shadow around his eyes had only grown from holding down the struggling lad.

So he did feel guilty. 

Good.

“What do you know about this collar, anything?”

Vilkas nodded shallowly. 

“When he grew into a werewolf the collar grew too, though it didn’t seem like magic, no over the top obnoxious colors or sparks or whatnot. Either way the Silverhand have outdone themselves this time. Perhaps they really have added some wizard bastards into their mix.”Vilkas spat as he told Elriah what he knew about the collar, which to be honest was not much. 

Vilkas turned his anger at the Silverhand as he spoke.

“That damned Collar was soldered on the moment they stuck it on him.” 

Elriah’s brow raised in alarm at such a cruel injustice   
“How do you know that? Did he tell you?” 

“No, but there was no other possible explanation. There are no locks anywhere on it, just a melted line.”

Elriah continued to examine the younger werewolf’s collar with that statement in mind. Vilkas had been right after all, there was no mistaking the soldered line that held the wrapped silver together.

Farkas was sitting nearby now, pulling more mead from his pack to hand to his fellow Companions.   
He offered one to Elriah first, who turned it down with a wave of a hand. Vilkas welcomed the mead and accepted it without a word, as did Athis.

“That was rough,” Farkas acknowledged bluntly.

Athis agreed as he held up his mead. 

“That is was brother. Can’t say I look forward to taking that damn contraption off either.”

“Maybe we should cut it off? I’ve got a wood axe, that might work. I don’t think my great sword would do the trick though, too heavy. Wouldn’t want to cut the buggers head off.” 

Vilkas looked up from his seat near the fire and Husk’s bedroll. 

“What was that Farkas? I didn’t quite catch that,” Vilkas inquired with a growl, his eyes squinting. The light from the fire made his tired dark eyes look even darker as he glared across at Farkas. 

“You heard me, we should cut it off. Who knows what sort ‘a damage is under that, and I sure as hell wouldn’t want to be burned every waking moment, day and night for years like that.” Farkas returned the glare with a hard glance, not budging at all under his brother’s glower. 

“And you think a Wood axe will do it?” Vilkas scoffed. “Husk would have tried that long ago had it was that simple. The Silver bastards are more devious than that. It will take nothing less than a good blacksmith and the divines to get that damned thing off. ” 

Farkas shrugged while he chewed thoughtfully at the deer meat. 

“Yeah, well what else can we do? We just going to leave it on there until it just falls off or what?”

Elriah turned his back from the argument as he continued to go over Husk’s wounds, looking for any signs of a spot either missed by medication or ill-stitched. He did not bother to listen in to whatever retort Vilkas practically shouted across the camp. 

Athis however seemed to be greatly enjoying the show, his face stuck in a grin as he listened to the cussing and angry fuming between the brothers. It was not well hidden behind the bottle of mead either.

Elriah glanced beseechingly at the dunmer. 

“Athis, you have any ideas?” Elriah asked. “Something that doesn’t involve any sort of axe or sword or taking Husk to a blacksmith? I don’t want to risk having anyone turn or getting thrown into a forge.” 

With that Elriah turned around swiftly to face the twins, scowling. 

“Which will happen if you two don’t pipe down!” He snapped. “We wouldn’t want our patent getting woken up before I numb him up again would we?” 

Farkas smiled guiltily as his husband raised an eyebrow at the pair. He knew that Husk wouldn’t wake up for anything less than Alduin landing in the camp himself. The drugs from before were more than enough to keep such a small werewolf at bay.

“No harbinger, we would not,” Farkas agreed.

“Aye,” Vilkas grumbled, not wanting to upset or fight again with his leader. 

With the argument settled Athis walked between the pair, wandering over to Husk and began to work without even a quick notice of his plans. His dagger shimmied in-between the skin and collar, careful as to not cut the though scared up skin. An attempt to use his blade as a lever to pry the collar loose resulted in nothing. More weight was put behind it with a grunt. 

“Hold on, I think I’ve got it…”

The Companions leaned in closer as the collar began to shift slightly, sliding up at an angle as the dagger tried to weaken its hold. 

Farkas was eyeing the blade with glee as the version of his idea seemed to be working.

Vilkas himself had perked up as the sound of creaking started. Hope lingered in the air about them as Athis ginned triumphantly at his soon to be victory. 

Snap!

The blade shot across the camp as the collar snapped back into place loudly, sending it flying from the force. Athis stared dumbfounded at the broken handle in his hands. The dagger had snapped right at the base. The blade itself was lost in the bushes somewhere behind the edge of camp.

“…Well then.” Athis began. “Here I thought I actually got it going for a moment there.” 

The rest of the companions shared the shock and looked to each other for any idea of what had happened.

“By the Red Mountain the blasted thing won’t budge for anything less than a miracle. Vilkas is right; we’ll need a smith to get this damned thing off.”

Farkas spoke, taking the opportunity to talk while the rest still remained quiet. “Eorlund might do it. Not sure if he’s ever had to cut metal off of a living person though.”

Elriah hummed at the idea, clearly weighing the options. Eorlund could do it, but the question was would he. The slightest mistake could easily kill Husk should one of his cutting tools slip. Knowing Eorlund he never liked to take risks with his creations, let alone a living being. Sadly the companions begrudgingly agreed that there was nothing left to do but leave the collar on and wait.

 

 

\---

 

 

“Do you think he will pull through this, ‘riah?”

Elriah sat close to his husband’s side, nestled up against the warm bulk of a body. Husk was inside the worn down tent while the other two companions set up another nearby. The couple was watching over the lad from the tent’s flap as he still lay unconscious. 

“I can’t say for sure just yet. He’s a fighter though if he hasn’t died already.” He answered. 

Farkas frowned, he knew Elriah far too well. He either said yes or no, never any sort of maybe when it came to werewolves. He knew if they were going to die, he could sense it in their very spirits and feel their souls slipping underneath his fingertips as he would work to save them. It was a gift they chocked up to be a part of the abilities of a Dragonborn.

“You’re worried he won’t make it through tonight, but you’re not sure because he’s a full blood?” 

Elriah nodded. Farkas was nowhere near to being as dumb as some thought. Slow perhaps, but there was a simplistic wisdom there, one that never over thought and saw things as they were. Elriah had never knowingly worked on a full werewolf until recently. The soul he had felt was wavering but anchored down, refusing to budge but oh how it wanted to leave. 

There were no tips of the trade to follow now; only uncharted territory. Farkas had picked up on his worry so easily, still suppressing Elriah years into their marriage. 

“Vilkas said it himself, there are seizers involved. Infection may have already damaged his brain. There are a lot issues all going at once. It’s hard to tell how far gone he may be after all that. But as long as he doesn’t start to seize again there should be a chance.” Elriah confessed. 

“Like Kodlak…?” Farkas frowned a he left the sentence open for Elriah to respond or assure him otherwise. The mention of seizures alone seemed to sap any hope from him as his shoulders slumped is disappointment. 

“Like Kodlak.” 

Farkas nodded solemnly and leaned into his husband more. They enjoyed the quiet as the other Companions set up behind them.   
“…I hope he pulls though. He seems nice enough, smart too. You know, this is the first time since we were whelps that I’ve ever seen Vilkas take something in like this. Last time it was a puppy. He didn’t make it but Vilkas tried his best to feed it and make it live. Tried for a good solid week too, and cried for another when it passed.” 

Elriah watched the emotion Farkas felt as he shared his childhood. Farkas looked at Husk with saddened eyes, frowning as he stared. Farkas saw that same puppy in Husk that his brother had tried to save all those years ago. He truly was hoping for Husk to make it, for as much as his sake as his twins. 

Elriah heaved a sigh and hung his head in momentary weakness. He couldn’t promise that Husk would survive, and even if he did Farkas had no idea that his brother had agreed to put him down if needed. It was a heavy burden to bear to be a harbinger of the companions, let alone the harbinger who could end Husk’s suffering. 

He knew by heart how Husk would react when he awoke, and how much pain he would be in. He had the power to stop it all, to let Husk finally escape the pains he had felt every day of his life. 

All he would need to do was either convince Vilkas it was time to let him go, or simply slip in during the night and make it look like Husk had passed away quietly in his sleep with the slightest of injections. 

Farkas kissed Elriah’s hair and wrapped an arm around him lovingly. Elriah did not want to make the choice and hoped that Vilkas would make it for him soon. 

\---

 

Vilkas assisted in setting up the larger tent with Athis. Though busy he snuck quick glances over his shoulder at the ragged tent behind them. He could not make out the shape of Husk within with his brother and Harbinger sitting in front of the flap. Though the fact that the two seemed comfortable gave him hope that things were still well. Athis roughly pulled the fur cover from Vilkas. 

“Either help or beat it; Staring isn’t going to make him die any faster you know.” 

With grim humor Vilkas knew that it was as close as a stop worrying as he would ever get from Athis. Although that did not mean he enjoyed the wording. 

“If you stop dilly-dallying we can get the stray into a decent tent at least.” Athis pointed out the long curved support for the tent. “See that? This is one of those good ones. Four of us can just about fit, while the other poor sod can take over the watch.” 

Vilkas huffed in agreement as he tested the support with a solid shake then went back to work. 

By the time the tent was set up it was just shy of dawn. The tent was one similar to the kind found in Stormcloak camps, usually for the generals or higher ranks, though its furs were better pressed and left no gap or give in its protection. Very efficient for long travel with companions for sure, and a good a place as any to keep a Halfling warm they had decided. It was one of the things that they could be thankful got packed away by a worrying Tilma and tied onto Farkas for the trip.   
The mouth of the tent was right in front of their fire as well, adding to its appeal as shelter.

Elriah greeted them as they approached the other tent. 

“Good work Athis, Vilkas. Did you roll most of the beds out too?”

“All except for the stray’s, Harbinger” Athis said as he pointed to Husk. 

Without a word Farkas carefully picked Husk off of the bedroll and nodded his head towards Vilkas to get the bedding. Husk looked extremely tiny in Farkas’s huge arms. The contrast between the pale white and the evenly sun warmed tone was obvious. 

“He’ll need some meat on his bones if he’s going to make it back you know. I’ve carried bags heavier than this.” Farkas was scowling down at the Halfling, worry scrunching up his brows. 

Elriah fully agreed. “That is one of the top things on the list before we head out. Just worry about getting him in bed for now. I’ll work on fixing Husk’s weight once he’s awake. For now I’ll take first watch while you three keep him warm.”

The three companions looked at Elriah in surprise before becoming scowls. This did not go over well with the other Companions. Farkas frowned while Athis argued and Vilkas backed him. 

“You’ve been walking all over Skyrim and now you want to take watch? Don’t be stupid, I’ll do it. Not only have you been looking for the run-away and his dog but you just preformed field surgery. If that doesn’t earn you rest I don’t know what will.” 

Vilkas growled at the comment before joining in. “Elriah, if something goes wrong you may be the only one who can help. If you’re too tired who knows if you’ll be able to help at all?” 

Elriah raised an eyebrow at the pair. 

“I know my limits. Now shoo before I have to order you like your bloody mothers to get to bed! I’ll be fine, just need to stay awake a while longer. Husk’s going to need some decent food soon if he’s going to be able to walk out of here. I’ll need to make some salve too, and something to attack the fever.”

Farkas’s arms were still full from Husk, leaving him to prod the other companions with his foot as he herded them away. 

“…Yeah, alright. Come on guys, one of us can trade places with him later.” Farkas eyed his husband as he convinced the others to go, leaving no arguments as Vilkas huffed off to lay out the final bedroll. 

“Be careful ‘riah, don’t wear yourself too thin. You’ve done it before and I don’t want to have to haul both you and Husk back to Jorrvaskr myself.” Farkas warned. 

This earned a smile from his Harbinger. 

“Don’t worry yourself over me now; I know what I’m doing.” 

“Yeah I know you do, just trade off as soon as your done.” 

Elriah shooed Farkas off with his hand before turning back to the fire. 

******* 

 

Vilkas lied next to Husk in the tent, with Athis at his back and Farkas resting across from him on Husk’s right. No one was really asleep yet while the light from the dawn did not help. Thankfully Husk was still sleeping and showed no signs of waking up. Elriah had slipped him a powerful injection beforehand, assuring that he would sleep for most of the day while the wounds were allowed to heal. 

Husk was still pale, but slowly color was beginning to return around the edges of his face and eyes. He looked peaceful enough as he slept on his stomach, his arms stretched out in front of him as his head lay on a make shift pillow. The lightest sound of breathing could be heard as well.

“We were worried about you, you know.” 

Vilkas groaned as his brother began. He could never catch a break. 

“You should have come back with Aela. Vanishing like that was a bad idea, you made us think you could be dead.”  
“I would have come back with her had she not interrogated and sliced up Husk . There was no way Aela would have let us both go with her and I wasn’t about to leave Husk behind. He survived too much to be left to bled out at some dusty camp.” 

“That bad huh? That doesn’t sound like her, she’s normally more level headed than that…though I guess she sort of confessed when she told us what she got out of him.”

Vilkas sat up and stared at his brother in shock. His blood ran cold as the possibilities and questions ran through his head. 

“What do you mean she told you, what did she say? Did she just tell you and Elriah?”

If she had told anyone other than his brother and the Harbinger the interrogation would spread and soon everyone would think Husk was a killer. In all reality he knew that was exactly what Husk had been, a full blooded killer, but it was never his choice. 

Who knew what kind of story she’d spun about the encounter, let alone his past? Husk would be dead man to them before he would even set foot in the hold. 

“She said it in front of everybody, so every Companion knows about...” Farkas grimaced. “...Him being a Silverhand and all.” 

His brother grew pale and fell silent. Vilkas didn’t even notice as Athis sat up behind him. 

“So everyone knows about the Silverhand’s work… By ysmir I’ll kill her!” 

Athis chuckled at his rage. As much as he’d love to watch that fight go down he knew it was best to calm his brother now before Elriah would catch wind of them still being awake. 

“No need for that now shield-brother, I doubt anyone took what she said to heart. Elriah shot her down with the look, and you know everyone saw that clear as day. If the Harbinger didn’t fully believe her, why should they?” Athis paused with a grunt as he stretched. The sound of bones popping was loud in their tent. “I doubt the stray could have done half of what she said either. What kind of lunatic would have saved him if he were? Let alone let their brother run off with it. You may not be as smart as you say Vilkas, but I don’t think you’re that damaged in the head.”

Farkas nodded enthusiastically at his shield-brothers words. 

“Aela had it all wrong, right Vilkas? There’s no doubt he was tortured and all, but that? Being able to kill that many werewolves and working with the Silverhand? Nah, I don’t see that.”

Vilkas grunted as he drug his hand through his own hair again. There was no use hiding it from them now.

“Aye, he did. Aela wasn’t lying about that as much as I wish I could say she was.”

Athis raised his eyebrows in surprise as did the other companion across from him. Farkas fell silent, unsure of what to say now that they knew Husk had indeed been the killer Aela painted him to be.

Vilkas sighed and lied back down onto the bedroll. It would do no good to get upset about it now anyways. Either way the damage was done and there was nothing that could be done about it. 

Farkas did the same but it didn’t take long for him or Athis to begin their questioning, the surprised silence cut short by their curiosity. 

“So, did you two really name the Halfling? Whose idea was it to call him Husk anyways? That’s not even a decent name for a Skeever!” 

Athis had voiced the question. His voice filled with sarcastic humor it normally was. 

Vilkas scrubbed at his face before answering. There really would be no sleep in his future. Though he supposed he was relieved that they were no longer talking about Husk’s past.

“Aye, that we did. He couldn’t remember his own name so we decided to call him something. It was Aela’s idea on the name, but it was Husk who decided.” 

Farkas sat up again to look down at his brother. 

Vilkas inwardly groaned at the realization he would not be getting any sleep whatsoever. 

“Why would he choose that one? Did you ask?”

Surprise made his eyes widen as he realized he had never actually asked. Why would Husk have even wanted that name? It was not like it was even an actual name, or had any good meaning behind it. It was a simple empty word.

“Now that you mention it, I haven’t. He just chose it and we left it at that.” 

“If he survives lets rename him, maybe take a vote on naming the stray. I personally say we should name him Bingo.”

“If you call him a stray again or suggest changing his name I’ll beat you worse than Njada ever did. It may be stupid but he decided it so it stays,” Vilkas warned and in return Athis put up his hands sarcastically. 

“I’m sure you would too, running off with him and all, no wonder you’re so protective. So sorry to offend.” 

Vilkas growled under his breath at the dunmers sarcastic tone. He had a few choice words to say to him for suggesting he had ran off like a damsel with some stranger.   
Thankfully Farkas interrupted before a true fight could begin break out. 

“Come on now, don’t yell, you might actually manage to wake him up with all that, let alone get Elriah madder than he is already.”

Athis scoffed. “He’s not mad, just perturbed. It’s not every day you have to save some random werewolf. If he were mad someone would be dead, and by someone I mean a dragon.”

Athis poked Vilkas’s arm with his finger. 

“By the way, was Husk really as bad off as Aela said he was?” 

“If by bad off you mean we thought he was some sort of drauger, then yes. You should have seen it, real stomach turner that was.” 

“I’m glad I didn’t, thank you.” Athis gagged as he remembered the spine and maggots comment.

“Good, now if you’ll both shut up so I can get to sleep I won’t have to tell you the gruesome details. I could ramble on about the way those maggots slithered on his spine.”

Needless to say the threat worked and soon Vilkas was allowed asleep in peace and quiet.


	8. Brother Dearest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry its short, i thought i might as well get this chapter rolled out before i get swamped with job searching. This is the last chapter i have pre-written from before, so the next chapter will be brand new and shiny right off of my beta-readers desks! ~~*

Gentle caresses brushed across Farkas’s face. He awoke as his husband found his way next to him in the bedroll. His hair had tickled his nose bringing him into a new day. Elriah hugged him, nuzzling his hair as his arms snaked their way around the much larger form. Morning light had found its way into the tent, lighting up Elriah’s tired face. 

“Glad to see you took my advice,” Farkas mumbled softly into the golden dirt covered hair. 

Elriah’s arms held him closer, leaving a quick peck on Farkas’s lips. Elriah’s hair was a mess that smelt heavily of herbs. If only they weren’t in a tent surrounded by the other companions; it was always tempting to see his Husband like this. Though even if they were alone, the fact that Elriah barely kept his eyes open as they dipped slowly quickly put those thoughts to rest. 

“Athis took over,” Elriah interrupted himself with a yawn, “do get me up in a bit though would you?”

Farkas tightened his grip. 

“Oh no you don’t, you’re getting at least a few hours shut eye first. If something happens I’ll get you up, ‘till then sleep.”

Elriah did not complain, and instead snuggled in closer before falling into a sound slumber. 

Farkas smiled into his husband’s hair. Elriah always wore himself out trying to make the best medicine he could. It was one reason he had fallen for him after all, that pure determination had caught him, and his heart, on sight. There was no doubt to be enough medicine for Husk, and food specifically to aid him. When Elriah didn’t have the herbs he wanted he would go out and search for them, no matter the time or weather. There was dedication in him that was unmatched when it came to saving his patients, or all of Tamriel. 

Once Farkas was sure that Elriah was asleep he began to slowly make his way out of the makeshift bed. He was careful not to awaken either of the men next to him. If Athis was indeed awake that left only his brother Vilkas and their newest recruit in the tent. The pressure from presumably Husk’s side was pressed neatly against his own. He peered over at Husk to see how much room he’d have to get up in. 

Farkas grinned wildly at the sight.

Husk was resting peacefully as was his brother, both held comfortably by their bedrolls. Husk was still lying on his stomach with his arms up around his pillow and a blanket lightly tucked over his otherwise exposed back. Though his breathing was shallow it did not carry the same vile rasp as it had in the cells. 

Vilkas’s hand was lazily wrapped around Husk’s wrist as he lay nearby, waiting for any sudden movements. Had it not been for the risk of seizures the sight would have spelt out a different meaning entirely. 

Vilkas was breathing calmly with his face fully relaxed as he slept. It took a moment but Farkas realized with awe that Vilkas was actually sleeping well for the first time he had seen in months. There was no tension in his brother’s shoulders, and no beast whispering the calls of the hunt in his dreams. There was only quiet, deep, renewing slumber.

Had Elriah been awake Farkas would have begged for him to capture the moment in one of his sketches. It would have been a trophy of sorts, or at least some proof that his brother had managed to stop brooding once in his life. Not only was it good to see his brother resting and happy, but it would have made for perfect black-mail. 

Vilkas must have felt the eyes on him for soon his face scrunched up in a scowl before opening his sleep hazed eyes. 

Vilkas grunted and gave a deep yawn, stretching his arm. He stilled as he realized where his other hand was, not bothering to continue sitting up. He blinked the sleep from his eyes as he stared at the face only a few feet away. He wasn’t upset unlike Farkas would have thought. Instead he smiled in relief as he saw Husk alive and breathing. 

Strands of Husk’s hair on the pillow moved as he breathed, giving Vilkas the apparent evidence he needed that Husk had indeed survived the night. Vilkas continued to lie there watching the signs of life carefully with thought. He let go of the wrist, pausing to gently touch the stitches that peaked from Husk’s hairline. There was more relief as he was that the infection had yet to turn its ugly head now that the medicine was applied. 

“Good on you,” Vilkas laughed under his breath. “I told Elriah you were a fighter.”

It was a tender moment. The quiet watchful care of a fellow Companion tending to an injured brother. It was one Farkas was glad to see, if for no other reason than to be able to rub it in later. 

The situation apparently dawned on Vilkas though, breaking the moment. 

 

They were in the shared tent. There were witnesses. 

 

Witnesses that could easily mistake what was going on. 

 

Vilkas eyes rose slowly, mouth hanging open in surprise as he stared at his eerily merry brother grinning ear to ear. There was fear in Vilkas’s eyes and Farkas knew he had been right the night before.

“It’s the best way to make sure I notice him seizing should it happen again,” Vilkas grumbled embarrassed. He pulled his hand away sharply as he sat up.  
His brother’s retaliation did nothing but make him smile wider. 

“Oh, that makes sense….how’s he doin’ then?”

A suspicious squint answered him fist. “He’s doing fine. I have no doubt Husk will heal up quickly now that Elriah’s here.”

Farkas nodded. “Yeah, he’s a fighter. That’s for sure if he’s lived this long.”

“Aye.” Vilkas’s scowl softened ever so slightly. “Jorrvaskr will do him wonders. Maybe after he learns to use that dagger of his Athis’ll have a run for his money.”

A deep chuckle arose. “I can’t wait to see that Brother. After that bandit I’d say he has a great chance. Now that he’s gotten it in his head Elriah’s an ok guy I don’t see why he won’t tag along. I’m sure you can’t either.”

“Hmm?” Vilkas’s brow rose at the last comment his still smiling brother made.

“To see Husk start being a Companion, you can’t wait.”

“I never said that.”

“You were thinking it loud enough.” 

Vilkas glowered darkly, a sneer pulling again at his lips. 

“Seein’ as you already decided he’s staying I guess you could say you decide to keep him then. Wouldn’t you agree?” 

Farkas didn’t get much of a response, instead he found himself running from the tent as his brother leapt up.

Vilkas caught up to Farkas, who was already standing near Athis. Vilkas stopped in front of them and jabbed a finger in his brother’s chest. 

“I told you that’s not what’s going on! What ever happened in the tent was for safety and nothing more!” 

Farkas did not lose his smile until his brothers eyes turned cold. 

“I don’t know what you think of me, but I’d never force myself on a man who only just found freedom! Husk just started trusting me; he needs a friend not a bloody lover! If you threaten that not even the harbinger will be able to put you back together!” 

Farkas sobered up, clearly hurt by his words. 

“Easy now, He didn’t mean to insinuate that you were trying to force anything on anyone,” Athis scolded. “Even a blind man could see you care for the stray, that doesn’t mean you’re trying to get in his trousers.” 

Vilkas breathed deeply before letting it out in a sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Sorry Vilkas, I’m just really happy to see you sorta happy is all.” 

Vilkas closed his eyes tightly for a moment before sighing again. Lightly he reached over, punching Farkas’s arm. 

“No harm done. Forgive me; it’s been stressful these last few days.” 

Farkas seemed to brighten right up again before pulling his brother into a bear hug. 

“We won’t threaten anything, don’t worry, and if anyone tries to say otherwise about you just helping Husk I’ll break their skulls for it.” 

Vilkas glared back up at him half heartedly as he patted his brother’s large arm. 

“Of course you won’t, I’m not worried about that. Now, remember I expect to see you crack a few heads together then when we get back to Whiterun, you hear? No doubt someone will try to spin it the wrong way. If a thick headed brute like you could I’d hate to hear what those drunkards would say.” 

The last of the anger melted away forgotten as a rich smell danced its way across the camp. Vilkas’s nose twitched as he caught the smell of stew from the campfire. It was a wonderful aroma that beckoned to not only him but his beast, certainly saying there was meat to be had. A cast iron pot simmered as Athis continued to stir it. Another much larger pot was hung nearby, filled with thick green broth. 

“So that’s what Elriah had stayed up making then.” Vilkas eyed it warily. 

Farkas beamed with pride and Athis threw Vilkas a bowl. 

“Yeah, and you can actually eat the stew this time! There’s no medicine in it, that’s what the other mix is for.” 

“Harbinger himself said we could have it, just as long as we leave enough for Husk and himself. We’ve been waiting for you to make sure its edible first,” Athis teased. 

Vilkas threw his hands up in mock horror, but filled his bowl anyways. He was handed a spoon by his smiling brother who was certainly trying his best to make it up to him. Vilkas sniffed at it again before raising an eyebrow. He took a careful spoon full and was met with a surprisingly good flavor. 

“Bear meat stew? Now how’d you manage to get bear meat this fresh?”

 

****

Elriah yawned as he awoke, shaking sleep from his hide with a hearty stretch. Afternoon light was already casting shadows down on their camp. The voices of his comrades laughing brought a smile to his face as he stood and went to join them. The trio sat near the bank on fallen logs not far from the tent. The air was pleasantly warm, the shade from the trees keeping the heat at bay. 

“Morning,” he yawned again as he approached. 

Farkas grinned and waved him over, already filling up a bowl of stew and nabbing a bottle of mead from his bag. 

“Glad to see you are all doing well. I see that our guest is still alive this morning.” 

“Afternoon you mean harbinger,” Athis corrected with a grin. “Though it’s good to hear we weren’t sleeping next to a corpse all morning.” 

Vilkas let out an audible huff that Athis waved away dismissively. 

“Yes, afternoon, you know what I meant.” Elriah sat across from the elf with a thud, too tired to really joke or reprimand. 

Farkas took no time to shove the stew his way, forceful though with a smile. He wasn’t about to let his husband not only stay up half the night and into the morning only to go hungry. 

Friendly chatter soon rose up from the gathered Companions. Farkas mentioned how good the game was in the area around camp, and of another buck he had spotted. Soon they were all talking about hunting, which lead to stories of their first hunts, then to their most successful kills.

“You should have seen the size of that damned Horker, thing stood as tall as a troll. Took almost an entire damned quiver of arrows before it even started to slow down.” Athis lip curled back proudly as he continued, grinning wickedly. “Luckily it slowed down just enough for me to rush in and slash the beast clean open! The gold the villagers give me was just as grand and rich as the blood that splattered my blade.”

“I dunno about one Athis, last time I thought it was as tall as three men. You sure you’re telling the truth?” Farkas pointed out, an eyebrow raised in question. 

“Well I suppose we’ll never know now will we? Find me another Horker and I’ll just have to show you.” 

Elriah grinned and leaned forward, pointing at the dunmer. “Really now, what about that Giant just two months ago? Could have sworn that was the toughest fight.” 

“That doesn’t count Harbinger, that Giant had friends and so did I. Now if I had managed to take them all down I would boast about that till the mead ran dry.”

“Let’s not forget the time I killed two dragons in a single battle.”

Farkas chocked on his mead as Athis stared blankly back at Elriah.

“….that’s not quite fair. Not all of us can yell our enemies to death.” 

Elriah’s eyes widened in surprise, as if taken back by the sudden revelation. “Really..? And here I thought everyone could! You’re snoring deafens half of Whiterun alone!” 

Athis huffed angrily, turning his attention back to his food and away from the Companions who were now all sharing a laugh. 

 

Elriah’s second bowl was already half gone by the time Vilkas spoke up. 

“So, how long should we until we move on?”  
Elriah swallowed another spoonful, not even bothering to taste it as he hurried to answer.

“To be honest Vilkas, I’m not quite sure myself. I think he should be ready to go at the end of this week, just as long as he doesn’t take a turn for the worse. Looks like he’s healing faster than other werewolves would, but that’s a given I’m guessing.” 

Vilkas nodded grimly at his Harbinger’s words, worry pulling at his lips. “Surely he won’t be able to walk the entire way though in just a week’s time! Are you really sure he’ll be ready by then?” 

“Well hopefully he can walk some of the way each day, but when he eventually gets tired we can take turns carrying him. It’s only a few days travel back to Whiterun, so it wouldn’t be too much of a burden to bear.” Elriah’s voice was calm, already falling back into the role of a leading Harbinger. 

Farkas grunted and nodded along to the plan. “I can carry him most of the way you know. A little guy like him is no problem for me.”

“Let’s say he can walk and is indeed walking when we come across a group of…oh, forsworn for instance. We would all end up fighting them and leaving Husk to be picked off like the injured elk he is.” 

Farkas grunted in disapproval.

“Yes well, while you three are busy someone needs to keep him alive. I’m fast enough that I can get him out of harm’s way, and fast enough to kill whoever comes after us.” 

“It’s not like you could carry him anyways,” Vilkas shot back snidely. “Though you do raise a fair point.”

“Oh no, I could carry him no issues there. What’s one elf carrying another?”

“Careful Athis,” Elriah warned, “That sounds like the start of a joke.”

There was no missing the sniggers of laughter Vilkas did his best to hide. 

The Companions collectively agreed that it would be the best plan with nods and more scoops of stew. 

Farkas still looked worried though, prompting him to voice a question of his own as he finished filling his brother’s bowl for the second time. 

“But who would try and come after him? Aela said they killed all the Silverhand back there.” 

Vilkas scoffed, “Well that didn’t detour the bandits, remember? They’ll see him as easy game, but he should be safe enough.”

“Yeah but…bandits wont attack with us around, Husk or no Husk. Something’s bugging me, wouldn’t they have boasted ‘bout trainin’ a werewolf? They would have told other Silverhand camps for sure I’d think.”

Elriah’s spoon stopped mid lift as Farkas rambled on. 

“They’re stupid so they wouldn’t have stopped at just one. They had Husk for what, twenty somethin’ years? With him doing most of the work why wouldn’t they try and make more of ‘em? If not I don’t think they’d let the only one go, someone would notice, right?”

Vilkas struggled to keep down the stew as Husk’s words passed by again. Fear clenched his gut.

The air became heavy with realization that Aela had been right. 

“Ysmir,” Vilkas whispered as he put his head in his hands. 

Aela had been right. She had been fully and unmistakably right. 

Husk would lead the Silverhand right back to their door when they came to track down their home grown hound.

“Farkas’s right,” Athis spoke angrily as he stood. “The fools would have been sure to make more hunting dogs after they broke Husk! We need to move, now, and get out of here before the other Silverhand know he’s missing if they don’t already. If we play it right maybe we can make them think he died in the field with the others.” 

“How’d we do that? There aren’t exactly any other werewolves we could just kill and burn up,” Farkas pointed out gruffly. “And we don’t have any silver to make a collar like Husk’s either. “

Elriah cleared his throat before an argument could arise. He was calm as he put down his bowl and leaned forward to put his hands wrapped together in thought onto his knee. 

“Farkas does have a point, but we can’t afford to move Husk in his state. They would certainly boast, maybe even to the vigilants of Stendarr, who knows? But they would tell their other garrison brothers that they had managed to capture and train a full blooded werewolf without a second thought.”

The companions glanced worriedly at their brother whose face was still hidden behind his hands. His shoulders were tense as what they could only guess was anger bubbled under his skin.  
Elriah watched as well, a frown tugging the corner of his lips.

“Vilkas.” 

Vilkas sighed as his hands fell across his lap. His eyes met Elriah’s. He looked exhausted. 

“Yes, Harbinger?” 

“At any point in time did Husk mention other wolves like him? Not necessarily full bloods, but Silver hounds in general?” 

Vilkas swallowed hard as Husk’s words yet again crossed his mind. Elriah had called Husk a Silver hound. Hearing the name alone was grinding away the last of his nerves. He had not lied when he said the last few days had been stressful.

“Husk said their last caretaker was a Dark elf, and from what I hear he wasn’t too friendly.” He paused to look over at Athis who was squinting, probably remembering Husk’s reaction to meeting him. “We didn’t speak much about it, though Husk said…He got picked ‘cause he knew how to handle us. He refused to let any of us out unless it was to kill something, Silverhand traitors, villagers, more bandits, the likes…He spoke as if there were others.”  
Vilkas repeated what Husk had said in the river slowly, stressing the us as it came from his lips.

“So there is more then,” Farkas spoke up. “That’s a good thing. Not for them, but for Husk.”

“I don’t see them risking more men by coming for him if they already have other hounds,” Athis agreed. 

“But I didn’t any of those damned collars on any of the damned copses,” Vilkas hissed. “How do we know he wasn’t the only one left?”

“That doesn’t mean they weren’t out hunting Shieldbrother. Just because you didn’t see them doesn’t make their existence any less likely. If he was truly the last I don’t see them tearing him up like that just for show.”

“But then that means that some of the Silverhand from Gallows rock survived too, they won’t take well to coming home to their dead comrades and missing one of their best werewolves,” Farkas argued gruffly as he stood as well.

Vilkas frowned, leading his brother to clarify. 

“I only said he’s one of their best because he knows how to follow orders and does ‘em good. If he didn’t there wouldn’t be so many dead wolves on his hands."  
Vilkas didn’t argue.

Elriah rubbed his temples tiredly as he though over the information given to him.

“The plan stays the same. Until Husk is well enough to move we stay in this camp. We’ll have to start keeping watch, starting tonight. Vilkas, I need you to ask Husk about the other werewolves the moment he wakes up and is able to talk. If Aela was right we need to be prepared.”

Elriah got up from the log as did Vilkas. He cuffed Vilkas on the shoulder as he spoke to him, his voice low as the other Companions walked away. There was no escaping his eyes as they forced Vilkas to look back at his Harbinger. They were dark with thought. 

“I know you want to save Husk, but keep in mind that the Companions come first. There is a lot at stake here now that the Silverhand have begun using us.”

Vilkas stared back; unknowingly holding his breath. Elriah was supposed to be their leader. Whatever he would say was law and for the best of their guild. If he were to command him to let Husk die he would have no choice. 

“With that said I refuse to let Husk go back to the Silverhand.”

The promise left Vilkas wide eyed in surprise as his Harbinger smiled, eyes gleaming with determination. 

“The Companions take care of our own and as long as you still vouch for Husk he will be considered our brother until the land is free from those bastards. Husk may be a key part to destroying the Silverhand once and for all. He knows more about them than anyone else.”

Hope was radiating from Elriah as he spoke of killing their enemies. Vilkas may not have liked being called a werewolf, but there was no doubt that for that small smidgen of time he had felt proud. It would be a hunt worth calling his last as he sent the beast blood away. The Silverhand would die and he then he finally would allow himself to be cured. 

“Now, with that said I do not agree with you that Husk is safe.”

Oh. 

The wind was curtly stolen from his sails at that. 

Elriah’s grip tightened as he held eye contact.  
"I’m holding you to your word Vilkas. The moment he steps out of line or hurts a fellow companion you are to put him down on the spot. No mercy, no waiting, no trying to just talk it out. You put him down right there and then by any means necessary. If he attacks anyone in any way or shows even the smallest hint of wanting to go back to the Silverhand you are to follow the promise you made. Understood?” 

“Aye.” It was the only thing Vilkas could say. No other words came to him as his leader’s eyes bore into him. He couldn’t disobey his orders. 

Elriah turned back towards the hanging pot above the fire. It didn’t take long for him to turn back and hand him a bowl of medicinal broth. 

“Go see how our brother is doing and see if you can’t get him to talk about those other wolves.”

Vilkas took the offered food. Elriah held onto it a minute longer, gaining his attention one last time.

“I wish him the best and want to see him join our ranks. Be sure to let him know he has a family with us as long as he stays out of any serious trouble.”

Vilkas said nothing, nodding instead as he turned and headed back to the tent.


	9. Comfortable Companionship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is shorter than the rest, its been so long I decided to just post it. I planned on more but things have been hectic and my beta readers are all swamped, but I hope this will do ^^" 
> 
> Sorry too about the formatting if its a bit wonkey, copy-pasting from word onto here seems to mess things up a lot. ^^''

“…Husk?” 

Bloodshot eyes drug slowly towards the tents entryway. 

The unexpected sight had greeted Vilkas when he entered the tent. He stood there, one hand holding the broth while the other held the tent's flap. It had been the last thing he would have expected, yet there Husk was, still lying down but with eyes blurrily focused on him. Dark bags hung under them like bruises. The rest of his face had the beginnings of health, though was still quite pale in the tents light. 

When Elriah had told him to check on the newest companion Vilkas had fully planned on Husk still being dead asleep. Guilt crept up on him burning its way up his neck and setting his stomach on ice. His shoulders prickled as he finally continued into the tent.

Husk squinted as Vilkas approached. Soon a weak smile emerged from his chapped lips. “Greetings Companion…things went well I see?” His voice cracked as he tried to laugh.

Gravelly and rough the sound became a sharp sting to Vilkas’s ears. Humor barely masked the pain and fatigue. He sat in arms reach near Husk. The bowl was left nearby as the warmth rolled off and into the air leaving wisps of steam. Husk blinked slowly as he watched him settle onto the ground. 

Bruises dotted an exposed arm that peaked out from under the furs. Though not large they were dark and profound. Guilt twisted the companion stomach more as the bruises melted into hand prints. Perhaps he had held him down hard after all. 

“Elriah thinks you’ll be ready to move out by the end of the week,” Vilkas announced. “He wants to leave the area as soon as you’re ready. There are a few questions he wants me to ask as well of you.”

An uneasy silence fell. Vilkas cursed himself. There was no reason to hide his harbinger’s plans but there wasn’t a reason to blurt the reason either. Husk did not seem relieved at the notion and closed his eyes in thought.

“Those can wait until you eat though. Do you think you could sit up at all? Elriah made some medicinal broth.”

There was still no answer. 

For a moment the companion wondered if Husk had fallen asleep. The first few days of freedom had been spent resting after all, and now there had been the surgery. There were more than enough reasons to be exhausted. Elriah would understand and would probably send him off hunting or scouting. Vilkas made a move to get up. Husk needed his rest. He couldn’t mask the feeling of relief that he could leave the tent.

“Vilkas?”

Vilkas skid to a halt. Never before had Husk uttered anything in such a tone. The worry was unmistakable. 

“…Something the matter?” 

 

Another quiet spell fell upon the tent as Husk opened his eyes; staring up at the fur ceiling. 

“Who is he? What is he?”

Vilkas wasn’t sure what to say. “You mean Elriah?”

Husk gave a shallow nod. 

What and who was Elriah indeed. Where would he even start? Husk already knew he was the leader of the companions. How was he supposed to explain that their leader was also the Dragonborn? Did Husk even know what that was?

“He’s our leader for starters and the Thane of Whiterun. He is a very good man who would rather prevent bloodshed than cause it, but when he takes to the sword there is no warrior alive who could get in his way. I know Elriah can be…intimidating, but you have nothing to fear from him.”

A small puff of sarcastic laughter escaped Husk, crinkling the corners of his eyes.   
“Nothing to fear…right” he scoffed under his breath. Vilkas had barley heard it. 

He scowled. “No harm will come to you from him; he wants to see you up and walking again just as much as you do. You have my word.”

This made Husk fall quiet again. The halfling studied Vilkas for a moment, his face unreadable.   
Soon he turned away to stare back at the ceiling again. His eyes traced the stitching as if studying his own words. A snaggled fang worried his lip.

“I know you trust him, but he smells wrong. It’s something just…something like…” his voice trailed off as he searched for the word.

“Magical? Ancient?” Vilkas offered. He was beginning to understand what Husk was getting at as the through inched grimly though his mind.

“Exactly. It’s not right. He smells like graveyard soil. Like a predator who could swallow a mammoth whole.” 

Vilkas hummed lowly. Werewolf senses would have picked up on that the first moment Elriah walked into the camp. Vilkas himself had grown so used to it all of the odd smells had just lumped into one. No wonder Husk had been so fearful.

“There’s a reason for that, though I’m not sure how to describe it... Do you know what Dragonborn means? It would be helpful if you did.”

“I haven’t a clue.” Husk shrugged apologetically.

“I see. Well, you’re a werewolf, right?” 

Husk blinked, then stared at him as if he had gone crazy. “Well yes, at least last time I checked.”

Vilkas squinted, unamused. “That was rhetorical. Now then, where as you are Nord by birth, so is he. Though where you can change he can’t, well he can, into a beast, but he cannot change into a dragon. Elriah is Dragonborn, Dovahkiin; he has the soul and blood of a dragon and the body of a Nord.”

If there was a change in Husk’s expression Vilkas did not see it. 

“…Did you hit your head somehow?”

 

This was going to go nowhere. Vilkas knew he was bad at explaining things but how was he supposed to explain what Elriah was? “Take it up with Farkas if you don’t believe me. That, or ask Elriah yourself. It won’t hurt to speak with him. He’s already said you can stay.”

That made quite the change. “…Pardon?” Bloodshot eyes light up in surprise. 

“Elriah said you’re an honorary Companion. Once we get you on your feet and the Silverhand are dealt with you can decide if you want to stay or not. Just don’t attack anyone or let them lure you into doing it like Aela. If you do we won’t have much of a choice but to… remedy the situation.” 

“You mean kill me.”

“Aye.”

Husk nodded in understanding. There was relief clear to be seen as he smiled shakily. The promise of death had not deterred him. 

“Companion…?” he smiled more. 

Vilkas’s lip twitched briefly, keeping down a grin. “Aye?”

 

“Any chance you could lend a hand? I’d like to sit up a ways. Can’t make it as one of you lot if I starve to death.”

Vilkas couldn’t help but laugh. He felt as if some small war had been won. “No, you’re right. Let’s see now....”

 

\----

 

Aela snarled as Tilma disinfected her wounds again. A sharp sting cut as deep as silver as the rag was swiped over the injury. Her skin tingled as the alcohol bit into the tender flesh. The wounds were mostly healed though a few jagged cuts still remained. 

Tilma tsked just as a mother would. “Now now, a warrior like you should have known better than face a troll without your shield brother,” Tilma scolded. “Now hold still.”

The elderly woman sat next to Aela in the dining hall off in the musty corner. Companions busied themselves about as Skjor kept a watchful eye. It had been days since their Harbinger had left, accompanied by Athis and Farkas. None of the companions that went about stopped to talk to Aela. She had said her piece but there was still doubt at her words. 

Aela didn’t blame them. Their Harbinger had made his feelings clear without having to speak a word. They would know soon enough that she was right. She just had to bide her time. Whether it would be from them returning with an injured brother, or bringing back the war dog. If they did it would not be long until he would lash out again. This time it would take more than Vilkas’s guilt to intervene. Aela could only hope that no one would be harmed when the inevitable happened. 

“Get your lazy drunken ass moving Tovar, you’ve got a job to do!” snapped Skjor. 

Tovar’s sword dragged behind him as he walked. A hangover darkened his expression as the bright morning light hit him. One arm rose wearily to block out the offending rays. “I hear ya’ and I’m moving so hold your horses. Not like it’s that important anyways.”

There was no masking the agitated eye roll Skjor dealt. “You’re right it's not. But it is a job and you’re lucky to even get it! They’re scarce enough as it is and if I remember right you still need to pay off your tab at the Bannered Mare. Hop to it before I arrest you myself for drinking away the poor bastard’s profits!” Skjor jabbed his thumb to the door. “That way and down the main road. Skeevers don’t kill themselves.” 

The final knot of the linen was twisted and wove into a tight lock. There was no sight of the reddened wounds now under Tilma’s motherly care. Tilma patted Alea’s knee with bony fingers slightly crooked from years of work, dismissing her. Thin lines crinkled as the elderly woman smiled, hiding the vague threat. “No fighting or sparring until it’s good and ready. No night bound incursions either.” 

Skjor acknowledged Aela’s presence with a firm nod though his jaw was tight. Other than that he paid her no heed as he read over the job listings one last time. His large thumb smudged the still drying ink as another was crossed off. With another sweep of the room the temporary harbinger plopped down in the nearest chair with a sigh. “I’m too damn old for dealing with whelps.”

“They aren’t whelps,” Aela pointed out. “The newest ones been here for over a year now.” 

Skjor replied with a sniff. He shuddered as Tovar’s stench followed the drunkard out the door, wharfing heavily through the room as it spread. He snatched a rag from the table and wove it towards the open windows from his seat. It did little to help. “You’d think they’d at least know how to do their jobs by now. Or bathe. I don’t understand why Elriah keeps him around. Don’t get me wrong, I like Tovar enough, but I can’t stand all his bellyaching.”

Jorrvaskr was vacant of Companions except for the two battle worn fighters. Aela had been careful as she joined him. The tension of his jaw remained. Low fires continued to burn though barely licked above the smoldering coals. Midday sun filtered in through the windows casting shadows on the far walls. 

Skjor jostled her with his elbow. “Good to hear you’re holding up alright,” he teased, pointing to her leg, “thought we’d have to cut it off for sure.” 

A shove replied for her, causing a deep rumble of laughter to escape him as he tried to keep the chair from toddling over, almost spilling his tankard. He fixed that possibility with a single quick chug. 

A bottle of mead soon found them both as they enjoyed the rare quietness of the hall. Aela stifled a laugh as the sun reflected off of Skjor’s balding scalp. 

“So, how long do you think?” 

The playful mood was swept under the rug. There was no need to clarify.

Aela shrugged as she answered. “Without the beast they should return somewhat soon, within the next three days perhaps. The weather is fair enough for travel after all.”

“And with this stranger?”

“If Elriah decides to let him live he’ll wait until he’s recovered before heading back. I’d say about a week or more of waiting then a straight few days walk.”

Skjor used the mead to tap against the wooden table as he hummed in thought. Many rings decorated the table from drinks long past. “Well then, that gives us just enough time to plan then hit this headfirst.”

Aela’s brow arched. “A plan?”

“There’s no room for an outsider who spilt blood for the Silverhand. Poor bastard didn’t have a chance from the start. No matter how much work Elriah’ll do won’t change the fact he’s a war dog.”

Aela watched him carefully as she drank. The bitterness of the mead stole the cold snap from her words. “I thought you enjoyed beasts.” 

 

The tapping stopped. 

 

Skjor’s eyes darkened as his attention turned to the deep gashes that scoured a nearby beam. Sturdy oak dark with age and varnish stood harshly against the inside’s pale splinters. Werewolf claws had bit as they swiped, anchoring deeply into the wood and Skjor’s memories. Kodlak’s final battle was a permanent fixture of the hall. A haunting reminder of what true beasts were capable of.

“I do. I have the utmost respect for hunters of all kind, wild born especially. That doesn’t change the fact that this outsider hunted trophies for his masters. Had things been different I’d probably meet him myself at the steps and ask to accompany him on a hunt.” 

“I can see you doing just that too. Had he been uninjured I would have enjoyed to fight him as a beast myself.” 

“But you didn’t.” 

“It wasn’t supposed to go that far.”

Skjor leaned back. His old bones creaking along with the chair in harmony. Aela was slumped forward, elbows on the table as she stared at her drink. “We’re not talking about the fight anymore, are we?”

Aela shook her head slowly as her hand tightened around the mead. 

 

“Listen, there’s no companion alive who doesn’t know you’d do anything to protect our Hall. They also know that your loyalty is just as ruthless as your sword. I have no doubt what you did was from that same loyalty, but as soon as he didn’t bend to your will you were planning to kill him, then Vilkas got in the way.” 

“No. I wanted to bring Husk here. I may be ruthless but I can’t say I’ve destroyed over thirty werewolves with my own claws. That raw strength was exactly what we need to make us great again. He followed orders perfectly, never once trying to take on either me or Vilkas. What else could help us destroy the Silverhand but one of them? I fully planned to make Husk think helping us was the only way to make up for what he’s done.” 

“And from those bandages and our missing Shieldbrother something went wrong.”

“After the interrogation I was stupid enough to draw my blade. There was no other response but for him to attack. I don’t blame him at all. Had it not been for that mistake he would be here right now drinking alongside us. Once Vilkas intervened I didn’t have a choice. You would have tried to kill Husk yourself if you’d have seen the hatred in his eyes. There was no way he would join us after that. We could have returned with him, yes, but…I feared he would turn on us as well. You can’t tame a war dog.”

“Then why didn’t you kill him? Vilkas is strong but you could have made him back down. You have before.” 

Aela scoffed at Skjor’s supposed wisdom. “If Vilkas was willing to turn into a beast to defend him it would be a lost cause to try.” 

Skjor choked on his mead after drawing a sudden breath in surprise. The coughing was rendered as he hit his chest, knocking the liquid back out of his lungs. “You’re joking!” 

“If I was joking Vilkas would be here and there would be a rotting werewolf back at camp.” 

“Then forget I said anything about you making him back down! By Shor’s beard…” 

Aela snickered at the companions cough reddened face. “Now you see what I was dealing with.” 

Skjor still sputtered as the last of the mead was coughed up. There was no masking the surprise on Skjor’s face that light up his one good eye. “Well, that changes things then. If this whelp was able to make Vilkas break his vow we may need him around long enough to pound the notion of purity out of his head all together.”

Aela could not help but remember the long hunts beside her brother as the tall wet grass would whip at her face as they chased down their prey. Hunting had lost its flavor once Vilkas swore off the blood. Though the joy of the kill still filled her as she struck down her foes, it was lacking the sharp taste of victory that only Vilkas had helped her achieve. Vilkas’s wolf was built for battle, though speed was also a blessing Hircine had smiled upon. No other Companion was able to flush out prey or lead Silverhand into a trap like Vilkas could. Their teamwork was the true epitome of the hunt. 

She wanted it back. 

She wanted Vilkas to stop holding back the blood, closing himself in his quarters to avoid the reality of being a werewolf. She wanted Vilkas to not harm himself by throwing himself thoughtlessly into battle, doing anything he could to beat the beast down and burn off the raw power by any means other than shifting. She wanted her brother, not the husk of a nord he had become. 

Aela closed her eyes, banishing the memories from her mind. When she looked up Skjor’s face held no judgment, he knew the feeling as well. He waited quietly for her opinion, her plan. 

“And then?” 

Aela couldn't think of anything else to say. Fully and without question she gave Skjor the power to decide. Skjor would decide, and there would be no guilt.

“Then we put that beast down.”


	10. The hell's a Dragonborn?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry for the long wait! I'm working three jobs right now so free time has been a bit...well, nonexistent at best. My usual betareaders have been really busy, so there are bound to be errors here and there. Please point them out to be if you see them! 
> 
> I have a tumblr by the way if any of you want to ask me a question about this story or send a review to help me improve. Its: http://main-kahuna.tumblr.com/
> 
> Hope this chapter was worth the wait! :D

Elriah removed the bandage from Husk’s back. It only took a moment to see that it had already started to heal quite evenly and well. No infection lingered around the new stitches. 

“This is a nice change, definitely better than before but that doesn't take much. Right Husk?” 

The Harbinger always made an effort to talk to his patience even if they didn't respond. With Husk though it was a bit different. So far he had yet to say anything more than “yes sir” or “no sir” or the occasional curse when he would apply more medicine to his various injuries. 

To be honest he was growing tired of it. 

It had been a tough choice to let Husk come back with them. Not only had the stranger attacked Aela but he had played a part in helping the enemy, even if it was against his will. There were lots of risks that came with helping Husk, and there was no doubt he knew it too.

Perhaps if Husk wouldn't steal glances when he thought Elriah wouldn't notice he would be more apt to let him stay quiet. But the fact was the looks weren't overly friendly. If anything they were suspicious at best. 

“So, Vilkas already told you that we plan to move out in a week?”

Husk nodded just like he had every time Elriah asked a question. “Yes sir.”

It was hard for Elriah to hold back his sigh. 

“Husk.”

The halfling stayed quiet as he turned to face the harbinger. 

“We both know you know how to talk. There’s no need to be so formal just because I’m a leader. Just say what you want to. You won't get beat for speaking your mind here.”

When Husk stayed quiet Elriah went back to tending his wounds. He wasn't sure if he had expected for Husk to say anything really. Vilkas had been able to talk with the lad quite well, though perhaps that was just because he had helped save him. 

“So what the hells a dragonborn anyways?” 

Well then. Elriah grinned at the brash question. That was far better than quiet. 

“I already overheard Vilkas trying to explaining that one. For being such a bookworm you’d think he'd be better at explaining things by now.” 

Husk squinted at the Harbingers admission to snooping. “I thought I had heard you outside the tent.” 

“Oh, is that why you've been giving me those looks?” 

Embarrassment was clear on Husks face. Apparently he wasn't as sneaky as he thought. 

“No harm done, Husk. To answer your question Vilkas wasn't that far off. I have the ability to understand dragon speech and use it to my advantage during battle. Sounds a bit better than the whole dragon werewolf changing thing huh?”

Husk cracked a smile. “Sounds more believable at least.” 

Elriah would never be used to seeing those fangs. “Glad to hear it. So tell me Husk, can you read?”

The smile fell flat. “Pardon?” 

“Before your capture did you ever learn how to read?” Not many in skyrim we're able to get an education. If Husk had indeed learned how to in his youth it would help piece together where he might have came from. Elriah had a feeling he had come from a decent family given the way he spoke. 

“Well, yes actually. I haven't read anything more than road signs in Hircine knows how long.” Husk looked surprised at the question. “What's that have to do with this whole dragonborn business though?” 

Elriah chuckled as he pulled his bag closer. He could see how Vilkas and Husk had gotten along. “It's a long story, but when I was escaping my execution I found a book about the Dragonborn legacy while running through the dungeon.” 

He rummaged around for the book, feeling for it's old cracked leather binding. 

“...you were a prisoner?” 

“For a brief time yes. This was before I became a Companion let alone their Harbinger. The Imperials were certain I was a Stormcloak when they seized the camp. To be honest I was still a wandering healer and couldn't leave their wounded lying there to die.” 

Husk tilted his head slightly. Elriah did his best to keep from comparing him to a curious dog as he handed him the book. 

“Here, you can borrow this. Hopefully it will shed some light for you, if nothing else at least it gives you something to do other than just lie here.” 

Husk held the book carefully, as if he was afraid he would damage it's pages. He didn't bother to thank Elriah just yet, instead opening it. He stared at the words for a moment before quickly, though carefully, closing it. 

Elriah pretended not to notice how Husk’s eyes had watered. 

“Thank you, Harbinger. I will be sure to give it back as soon as I can.”

“There's no reason to be formal among friends. You are welcome. And please, call me Elriah.”

Husk smiled yet again. A newfound respect for this leader growing as he held the borrowed page filled treasure. 

“Thank you, Elriah.”

 

\---

 

 

A rustle from the tents opening made Husk glance up with a grin as he put his book down. Another few days had rolled by, calm and with no sign of the Silverhand. He was more than happy to see his favorite visitor plop down in front of him, more broth in hand, even though he missed the taste of meat. 

Husk waved his hand in greeting as a yawn stifled his words. “Farkas! How’s the world out there?” 

He hadn't known the companion for long. Honestly he hadn't known any of them for long. It was hard not to feel comfortable with the burly man though. No matter how intimidating he was there was no doubting his otherwise friendly personality. It was hard to picture the Nord as Vilkas’s twin. 

“We caught another buck this morning. Can't believe how many are out here. Not a lot of hunters by the roads, I guess.” Farkas stretched, making his shoulders crack loudly. Husk winced at the sound. Who knew how long it had been since he had been able to do the same. It sounded really satisfying too. 

“Too many bears about, not worth getting mauled over. I bet the fishing's great too.” Husk replied. 

Farkas made a sound of agreement before passing him the broth. “That makes sense. We saw one on our way here. Bastard chased Athis right down the road ‘till my greatsword got in the way. So, you been around these parts before then?” Farkas asked.

Husk shrugged, not bothering to mask his frown. “I’m not a stranger to them but we never stayed for long.” They were far from pleasant memories.

Farkas glowered, knowing full well who the ‘we’ was referring to. “Probably a good thing, like I said bears are everywhere. I’m not sure how many even a werewolf could fight off.” His sour expression turned playful, “But I’m sure you have a clue.” 

“Farkas my friend you have no idea.” 

It was wonderful to hear a laugh that wasn't from a drunkard, and Farkas was an easy one to laugh. It was a warm and merry sound, much better than the gravel of bandits. Laughter had been what made Husk certain he was free. If that was the only luxury he had in this new life he was content, knowing what happiness finally felt like. Husk practically gagged at the sappiness of the thought. Maybe being stuck in the tent was starting to get to him afterall. 

“You’re going to fit right into the Companions. I have to admit I’m surprised we’re taking you back, but hey a brothers a brother and you fight good. Skjor will be happy to have another werewolf around to hunt silverhand with.”

Skjor. Husk knew he had heard the name before. He scratched at the foggy memory. Where had he heard that? Neither Aela nor Vilkas had mentioned him, Husk was certain. 

“He and Aela are the strongest fighters we have, other than Elriah of course. They took to the blood like no one else has. I had trouble with it though. What about you?”

“Pardon?”

“How do you take to the blood? I know you're a full werewolf and all, but still.”

“I’m not certain I know what you're trying to say.”

“Uh, alright let me put it this way. You ever just change for no reason and wake up surrounded by bodies?”

“...” Husk squinted at the Companion. “Noooooo?” he drew the word out, “I can't say I have.”He looked Farkas over as he answered. Just what were the companions doing letting werewolves run off after suddenly changing?

“Huh, that's pretty good then. That's what happened when Vilkas and I were turned. Thankfully it was just highwaymen.”

That surprised Husk. “Really? That must have been a shock. Your blood bearer just let you run off?”

“Blood bearer? Oh, you mean the werewolf who changed us. Nice name, I guess it fits with the blood drinkin’ and all. Nah they try to keep the new bloods in the underforge, but my brother and I were able to force our way out and into the wilds. We weren't sure when we woke up if the blood we tasted was his or those men.”

Husk felt sick to his stomach. Farkas continued to talk, not noticing how pale Husk suddenly was. The Companions had not only allowed two werewolves to escape, but had changed them by using makign them drink their blood. He swallowed back the nausea, doing his best to keep from losing the broth he'd just gotten down. Blood bearer was just a term, the sharing of blood but no where near as literal as the companions had taken it.

“After that we...Hey Husk, you alright?”

“They changed you with blood? By drinking Blood? Don't you know how dangerous that is?” He questioned. “You're lucky to be alive!”

Farkas looked confused at his sudden outburst. “Well yeah, of course making anyone a werewolfs risky, but how else would we?”

“Literally anyway else! Hell, biting is safer than that! Not as effective but they don't lose their minds over it!” 

“Didn't know there was any other way. We’ve bitten bandits before but they've never changed,” Farkas said defensively. 

“That's because you killed them right after! Honestly, Farkas, tell me, how many people have the Companions killed by changing them?” 

Farkas didn't know what to do. Husk was angry, even if he was trying to hide it. “Look, we didn't know there was any other way. To answer you I don't know, but we haven't lost that many.” 

Husk’s lip raised in a snarl. How could they have not known there were other ways? What idiot had changed them? If he met the bastard he'd tear their---the thought vanished as he realised Farkas was staring at him. Husk hadn't meant to let his temper slip. 

“Sorry Farkas, it's just…”

“I get it. I’m sorta pissed that we didn't know. We just figured the whole biting thing was just in stories and stuff.”

Farkas seemed to understand, but the stare didn't change. “What did you mean by ‘lose their minds’ though?” 

The Silverhand we're geniuses on the matter compared to the Companions Husk realised. It was a terrifying thought. Did the Silverhand know how little the companions knew about being werewolves?

“Those changed by blood tend to get tortured by the beast. It's more like a sickness than a change. Their bodies hardly know the difference, same for their minds. Some try to fight it for most of their lives by never shifting. Others stay werewolfs for good. That's what makes it so horrible. The more they hold out the worse the sickness becomes. I’ve only seen it once.”

Farkas was frowning. “What happened to that one?”

Husk shuddered at the memory. He could smell the copper as if he was back in the underground fighting hall.

“She went on a rampage and killed an entire group of trainers before turning on herself. We watched as she tore her own flesh from her bones until she finally gave out and bled to death.” 

“Shit…” 

“It wasn't just a way to escape either. She went truly mad after fighting the blood for so long.” Husk rubbed his eyes. He suddenly felt exhausted from his earlier outburst. The broth still sat barely touched next to his bedroll. He held it in his hands, feeling the slightest warmth still left. Suddenly he noticed how quiet the tent had gotten. 

“Are you alright Farkas? You're rather pale.” Husk didn't mean to sicken the Warrior, he had just hoped to get his point across on how horrible the blood change could be. Farkas looked ill and his hands shook.

“I’m fine. Didn't expect you to say that though.” 

“Well at least you haven't seen that happen then I'm guessing.”

Farkas huffed. “Damn glad for that too. But I can't believe it drives them that crazy…” he paused. “How long she hold out for?”

Husk hadn't known the female well if at all other than the brief meetings in the hall where they would be forced to fight. But he had heard the Silverhand complaining how she had stopped eating and would stay in the back of her cell, fighting anyone who would try to take her out. 

“She fought the blood for about a month I think.”

Farkas had looked bad before, but now he was terrified.

Husk felt his stomach turn cold. “Why? Has a companion started….” he couldn't finish the question. 

Farkas answered it anyways. “Yeah. My brother.”

But Vilkas had changed during the fight with Aela. Husk couldn't believe what he had heard. The companion who had saved him was denying his beast? It was hard to picture the same nord who had talked about the blood so freely and had asked him questions about it was the same one whose brother was now stilled with fear at the thought of his twin losing his mind. 

“You must be confused, Vilkas---”

“That was the first time he’s changed in weeks. When he left with Aela he had gotten so violent we we're worried he’d hurt one of the newer members during training. He’s gone months before without changing, just sitting away in his room.” 

When Husk didn't say anything Farkas got up and left the tent, no doubt to warn either his brother or their leader.


	11. Lack of Loyalty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! Hope it was worth it! 
> 
> I'm in the market for a betareader if any of you are available. This would have been out much sooner if I had help to make sure there weren't too many errors ^^;
> 
>  
> 
> Oh! I have a tumblr by the way. I tend to post doodles, and sometimes mini prompts ive done, but my ask box is always open if you have any questions or suggestions for any of my stories. 
> 
> Its: main-kahuna.tumblr.com

Movement flickered inside the camp. A flash of something, not metal but cloth. It caught the Dunmer’s flight trained eyes. Since dawn Athis had patrolled, keeping lookout for any Silverhand. His eyes wandered slowly as he waited for the movement to start again. It had been too brief to know for sure. Soon another bout of movement gave away the man who was attempting to creep away. There! Over at the large tent, hands quickly flying to his blade. His pulse quickened as the thought of the silverhand finding them took hold. There would be bloodshed over a stranger. 

Thankfully that was far from it. 

Athis huffed quietly to himself and let go of the dagger's hilt. His nerves had gotten to him again. Husk’s head was poking out of the open flaps, squinting from the light.   
The other Companions were too busy talking over plans to notice their new comrade once again standing. To Athis’s delight none of them happened to be facing the tent either, just him while the rest faced the river. Four more days had passed and Elriah was ready to move; now all that was left was to figure out what roads to take. 

It was the perfect opportunity. 

Athis strode over to the burnt halfling confidently. 

“ ‘Ello there, look who finally woke up! Here, take my arm and we’ll get you over with the others.”   
Athis had been purposefully brash. The twins’ cautious friendship had done little to grow Husk’s trust or usefulness. They had been trying far too hard to treat him like a fellow nord. Husk had always been a trained dog, never asked but ordered. Athis assumed that friendliness and free will was too foreign for Husk to understand just yet. When asked if Elriah could look at him, Husk had taken far too long to answer, after all.   
Husk eyed Athis cautiously. There was no doubt that Elriah’s treatments had worked yet again. His eyes were clearer and even his burn much less red. Athis would describe him as almost human looking if he were feeling generous, much better than the walking drauger from days ago. 

Athis was not dumb by any standards; he knew perfectly well Husk’s feelings towards his race. He would break that fear and gain the werewolfs trust in one fell sweep. 

Elriah had taken Athis aside and given him orders as the others went off on patrol. If anyone was able to judge Husk’s chances it was Athis. Nothing would cloud his judgment, unlike the pity his shield brothers openly displayed. The ability to adapt and relearn would help determine the halflings fate. What better way Athis decided than to gain Husk’s trust?   
Husk accepted the offer hesitantly with a nod. He was biting the inside of his cheek though, and did not let down his guard.

Athis’s smirk was held back as Athis took Husk by the arm. Though healthier there was still a slight sway to Husk’s steps as he came out of the tent. Being forced to sit on your ass for days would do that to you, Athis figured. Husk was yet again wearing the surviving clothing that he had found in the prison. Somehow they had managed to be scrubbed out enough to be rather clean. Another task Elriah had set upon. It was hard to imagine the lad in armor, at least without him falling over, as the clothes hung loosely on his frame. 

“Fine day to not be dead, wouldn't you agree?” Athis didn't wait for a response. “I’m surprised you’re so coherent. I’ve known lesser men become wrecks from mere headaches. Tovar’s one to lock himself away on days like these. Name’s Athis by the way, but I’m sure you overheard that.” 

Husk tried to smile at the dunmer, or at least appear friendly, though it was hard to truly smile as uncomfortable as he clearly was. His eyes would dart back to the elf when he thought it wouldn’t be noticed. Athis simply ignored it and carried on. Any beast would need time to adjust to a new master. The fact Athis was a dark elf clearly wasn't helping. Athis was sure to take his time helping Husk walk. There was no judgment at all, just helpful companionship. Showing he wasn’t a threat unless Husk stepped out of line was the first step of his plan.

“Thank you Athis.”   
Athis made a disinterested noise in response, though the slightest hint of a smile broke through. Perhaps his plan would go quicker than he thought. Athis raised his voice as he replied, hoping to catch the trio’s attention.   
“No trouble, you’re an honorary Companion after all! I’ll always be here to help a fellow shield-brother.” 

Elriah was facing them quicker than an archer could draw an arrow. There was no masking Elriah’s surprise to see husk up and moving, or Vilkas as his head snapped towards them. Farkas filled up a bowl of makeshift stew as Husk sat down with them. He seemed to be the only Companion not overly surprised. 

 

The camp smelt pleasant, making Husk’s mouth water at the hint of meat in the air. Athis sat next to Husk, making it a point to sit between him and Vilkas. Athis would never turn away from a chance to piss off their champion brooder after all, and it was for the good of the plan, really. 

The fact it annoyed Vilkas to no end was just a bonus. 

Farkas passed a bowl to Husk. “Great to see you finally moving again, half-pint.” 

Husk huffed, humored by the nickname.   
Elriah nodded in agreement while a brow rose towards his lover at the new name. Though he had formed a quick friendship with the lad the brashness was still a surprise. Well, maybe not for Farkas. 

“Hello Husk, feeling better?” Elriah ventured. He was curious to see how husk would react among the Companions. If nothing more maybe he would be talkative. One on one had gone well, but surrounded by a group of practical strangers? That was sure to test anyone’s nerves.   
Husk’s lip quirked into an apologetic smile. “To be honest I feel like I was trampled. But yes, I haven’t felt this good in a long time.” 

Athis scoffed. It had sounded harsh but anyone who knew Athis well knew it was usually a sound made in good humor. “You have to be one of the only people who could say that and actually know what it feels like.” Thankfully it was one of those times. 

Farkas was quick to defend Husk, but was stopped by his grin. Husk took no offence at the jab to his prior life.

“Well you’re not wrong.” 

The Silverhand hadn't been able to beat the humor out of him. Elriah watched with a careful eye as the small group mingled. It wasn't the same as it was back at Jorrvaskr, but Husk was able to take every verbal punch with a smile and return them. 

Amid the jokes Athis continued to fling his way and Farkas’s jokes flung back onto Athis, Husk looked questionably at the stew he was given. He was nodding along ever so often, looking up to add a comment of his own.  
Elriah was quick to respond to the question Husk hadn't asked. “We’ve already ate, so go ahead. Plenty to go around.”   
Elriah had been wondering how beastly the stranger was. Vilkas hadn’t said anything that troubled him, overly, yet, but that didn't mean Husk didn't take after the wolf. Normal life wouldn’t come easily for Husk, that was certain, and refusing to eat unless told didn't sit well with the Harbinger. 

But it was a trait they could easily retrain.   
Husk wasted no time in taking a quick bite, confirming Elriah’s grim thoughts. Husk’s eyes widened as he swallowed, surprise lighting up his face. “….This is really good. What is it?”   
Vilkas frowned but remained quiet. Elriah shared the same expression. It wasn't unimaginable he wouldn’t know what stew was; he’d probably been eating nothing but raw meat and bread for years.   
“It's stew,” Athis answered. “It’ll help put some weight on those sticks you call bones.” 

The jokes had died after that, the companions brought back to the reality of who they sat with. 

A breeze made the leaves above rustle, reminding them that they were in the elements. This was far from their warm home, and even farther yet from the safety of Whiterun’s borders. Husk didn't seem to mind and fished out every chunk of meat he could before starting on the bits of potato. Clearly glad to finally have something other than broth. 

“So uh, how’s your back feel?” Farkas asked. 

“Sore but still better. I’m amazed to still be alive, let alone standing. I owe the lot of you for that.” There was no doubting how much Husk appreciated the Companions for their help. It made most of the group smile. Even Vilkas who had been so quiet brightened up a bit.

“Healing up and getting on your feet would be repayment enough, Husk.” Elriah replied. “But I’m glad to hear it.”

An odd look crossed Husk’s face. “I just hope I can live up to your expectations,” Husk admitted. Absentmindedly his fingers reached up to scratch at a small divot in his collar. “I still don't know what the Companions do, but I’m guessing it's a bit more than mercenary work.” 

“There's more honor in it to be sure.” Elriah explained. “Not just anyone can get in, so don't think you were lucky enough to slip your way into our faction out of pity. There's potential in you, but be aware you’ll still have to prove yourself later once you're healed.” 

Husk nodded grimly. “...Would helping the Companions destroy the Silverhand prove my worth?” He asked, his mouth twisted into a grimace. The fingers that had traced the metal curled and fell back onto his lap then back around the bowl. “I will do my best to prove myself however the Companions go about it.”

“It's not just worth we’re after. Everyone is worth something, even if it’s just a bounty.” Elriah frowned. Husk had a ways to go when it came to self-esteem. The lad was trying to sound brave, but he hadn't missed the way Husk’s shoulders sagged and the voice wavered. Husk didn’t even seem to believe his own words. “Its loyalty to your shield siblings, honesty, and a drive to fight for those who can't. Do you have any of that to give the Companions?”

 

“...” Husk looked at a loss. It wasn't a good sign. His fingers tapped against his bowl as he stayed quiet for another long moment. “I...don't know.” Husk admitted, blinking as he said it. “Don’t get me wrong! Its just…loyalty isn’t something I’ve ever given. I am more than willing to fight for you though and the rest of the Companions, and I can promise to do it well. Without your Companions I’d be dead, or worse.”

“That’s no good, understandable though, but at least you didn't lie about it.” Farkas shrugged as he spoke up. “It’s hard to trust anyone who isn’t just as loyal back. We can’t exactly ask you to trust us, hell, we just met!”

Athis’s eyes went from Husk to Elriah as their leader stayed silent. 

Elriah chewed his lip in thought. It reminded him of the last werewolf they had saved; the only way to get through to that one had been questions. He hadn’t known if he could be trusted himself when asked upfront. Yet after rounds of questions he’d more than proven he would never hurt an innocent, his conscience just couldn’t take it. Elriah wondered briefly what ever happened to them after they left. 

“Lets say that, Vilkas,” Elriah started, and pointed to the Nord, “and you were on patrol. There is no way for you to shift into your beast without alerting the nearby guards that will attack you. A group of mercenaries approach, and are ready to kill the both of you to fill their contract. What would you do?” 

Husk held a blank stare as he tried to process the question. It wasn't something he was used to. The leader of the Companions was asking his opinion, what his tactics would be. Worry flashed in his eyes as he glanced the man over, wondering if it was a test. Elriah wasn’t upset at all, just relaxed as they waited. 

He wouldn't disobey the harbinger by staring dumbly.

He hummed after a moment and looked down as his face clouded with thought. “For starters, I would assess the area. If there are trees we could lure them into it if it got bad enough.” Husk frowned and caught himself. “But as you said the guards would hear it.” He propped his head up on his arm as he thought, with his elbow on his knee. “Right, Vilkas has training so he would know what to do in a battle. Elriah, may I ask how many are there?” 

“Of course. Let's say….” Elriah thought for a moment and held out his hand in a so-so gesture. His fingers snapped as he decided, “Six.” When dealing with warriors, cowards tended to send extra men to do the killing for them to make sure it got done. It wasn't an unreasonable number, three men for each separate target.

 

“Alright, six. Even with his training that’s too many. Most of my own lies with the beast, and whenever this attack supposedly takes place I might not have got to learn how to use a sword yet….” Soon he stopped talking. He bounced his knee as if to jumpstart his thinking. “I’m going to assume the guards are friendly, I would call for their aid and assist in anyway I could.” 

 

Elriah nodded, pleased so far with his answer. It wasn't full of self-righteous acts of courage, just rational ideas. “Sensible!” He praised, causing Husk to balk in surprise. “Now, suddenly you turn around and Vilkas is wounded, one of the mercenaries standing over him ready to kill him and is beginning to raise his weapon. What then?” He glanced sheepishly at his husband. Farkas was glaring at him. Vilkas was the only one there that Husk actually knew. It was the best person to use.

Vilkas made a noise of contempt. “Harbinger, I’m sure I could---”

“Rush the fighter and cause him to lose balance, then trip him by kicking his ankles out from under him. Once he's on the ground I’d grab the sword and shove it through his gullet. Doesn't take training to do that. After that make sure Vilkas isn't heavily wounded and do my best to keep him safe, if so, drag him out of the way if I could.” 

Husk flushed with embarrassment as he finished, he didn't mean to be so brash or violent. 

“Same for any other companion,” he added. “But Farkas is too large for me to even try to move let alone cover if we’re in open ground. Athis would probably glare at me the entire time.” Husk gave a small grin to the elf who sneered half-heartedly in return. “Much more drag-able though.” 

Elriah’s brows rose slowly. The last thing he had expected was a full on description of the plan. His interest grew as he noted the sharp mind that would easily grow under the Companions training. “Well you already have loyalty enough to not let him get murdered by mercenaries.”

Husk’s eyes flickered with uncertainty. “I don't know if I would call that loyalty.”

“Well then what would you call it?”

“Keeping my hide attached,” Husk explained bluntly. “If I were to let him be killed or any other Companion and shirk my duties you would kill me.”

Elriah stared at the lad. “You've already been told then what will happen if you step out of line.” Elriah’s voice was flat in observation. When he had Vilkas relay the rules to Husk he hadn't meant for him to take it that way.

“I will be killed, as I just said.” Husk lowered his eyes. 

Elriah was far from happy to hear Husk speak of his own death, especially at their hands over something he couldn't control. The fact Husk couldn't guarantee his loyalty sent up red flags, but like Farkas had said at least Husk had admitted that fault instead of masking it behind lies. Husk’s answers had hinted to more than just ‘keeping his hide attached,’ he decided. That was close enough for now.

“You won't be punished like that over nothing, Husk. You’re expected to fight to survive and protect your Shield-siblings, but death does happen. We won't blame you for a brother fallen in battle. And by the gods I’m not like that! The only reason would be if you attacked any of the Companions or went crazy.” He couldn't believe he had to explain it in the first place.

“Now!” Elriah changed the subject and slapped his hands together enthusiastically. He couldn’t let himself dwell on his worry. “We’ll be heading out tomorrow. You're going to have to walk as much as you can and when you're done Farkas will help you. If anyone attacks you go with Athis. No question or hesitation, just go with him and do not fight. We don't want you to get picked off before we can get you back to Jorrvaskr.”

“I understand, Harbinger. I will go with Athis without question.” Husk echoed with another shallow nod. 

Elriah lip twitched into a smile. Husk had called him his leader yet again, and in front of his future shield siblings. Though he would have preferred to be called by his name it was hard to not see the gesture. Elriah could understand why it was hard for Husk to pledge his loyalty, but the fact he had at least made it clear he was willing to serve his new leader was a start. It calmed some of Elriah’s worries.

The rest of the companions looked surprised at the fact Husk had called Elriah his Leader so easily and agreed to his orders. A smile was shared between Farkas and his brother. It was a good sign. Vilkas’s eyes crinkled at the change but continued to stay quiet. He seemed more content to watch than participate.

“Am I allowed to keep the Dagger?” Husk asked. “I’m more than willing to hand it over.” He went to get the knife from his belt, only to realize it was still in the tent. Elriah shook his head, another smile gracing his scarred lips. 

“Things happen during battle and if you don't have a choice but to fight back you're going to need something. I’d rather not have to chase a werewolf around skyrim while prying some poor bandit out of your jaws so you don't get sick.” 

Husk gave a sudden bark of laughter at the very thought. “I won't turn unless I’m asked to. I am fully coherent when changed, so if you ever need me to stop just say so and I can drop that ‘poor’ bandit for you. Honestly, I don't know why I’d carry one in the first place, they taste awful! It's like the Bastards never bathe.” 

Farkas just about fell off the log as he started laughing at the way Husk’s nose crinkled up in disgust. Husk changing from the quiet lad to suddenly saying something so brash was a change for sure. It didn't take long for Athis’s smile to crack as he joined in. 

“He’s right,” Farkas managed to say through the laughter. “Still not as bad as highwaymen though!”

Husk stuck his tongue out as his eyes squinted. “Ugh, I’ll tell you though nothing, and I mean nothing tastes worse than rogue mages. They always carry giant toes in their pockets or other alchemy junk.” 

This only made the already laughing companions guffaw louder. Husk grinned ear to ear as Athis went on to talk about the time a necromancer had ‘cursed’ him with gas.

Elriah brightened up as his husband laughed. It was good to see, even after finding his brother there had been a tenseness to him. Now in the camp he seemed fully relaxed, joyful. Elriah turned to joke with Vilkas, remembering the time Vilkas had gotten ill from eating a sick bandit while a beast. But instead Elriah watched as Vilkas’s smile fell and his face grew dark. Vilkas was deeply unsettled. Husk was an honorary Companion now, and was already settling into his new guild. Wasn't that what Vilkas wanted? Then again Vilkas was against the blood, let alone any acts done under it. Eating corpses and still living bandits did fall under that category Elriah supposed. 

Elriah’s attention was drawn back to the laughing companions as Farkas began comparing Argonian bandits to Khajiit Highwaymen. 

Vilkas’s brow creased. For all the laughter that had been shared Husk had yet to look his way. The talk of eating anything human had also helped sour his mood. Husk was merry and full of life in this little camp. The Companions around him acted as if he we're just like any shield brother to tease and laugh with. He had confessed his faults when it came to loyalty, something that Vilkas would never have expected from the lad, but right after pledged himself to their leader and their cause.

Mixed feelings stirred in his gut and stole the smile before it had a chance to surface. Here Husk was among new colleagues and far away from those silver bars that had scarred his hands. Those feelings changed from their gentle wisps to full on churning that ate at his nerves when Husk glanced his way, just to quickly go back to avoiding him. That small second had been filled with...pity? It was hard to read Husk’s face normally with the burns stiffening his expressions - let alone when Vilkas couldn't blink without the face flashing by. 

Vilkas swallowed his bitterness. If there was a reason for the sudden change it was probably for good reason. Husk would get over it soon enough. 

 

At least that’s what Vilkas hoped. 

 

\----

 

“So how’re the supplies coming?” Farkas asked as he walked up, wiping sweat of his brow with the back of a hand. 

Vilkas had one knee on the ground as he worked amongst the bags. He was in the middle of checking the supplies, as Farkas had pointed out, and restocking what was needed. Most of the food was still good, other than a bit of bread that begun to stale. Vilkas had tossed that out. They had landed another deer that morning, filling the dwindling meat supply. 

“How else would it be going?” He grunted as he pulled the strap tight around a fully filled bag. “Aren’t you supposed to be taking that tent down?” 

He knew Farkas better than to believe this was idle conversation. Farkas’s fingers were fidgeting against themselves. Just as they had the night before Vilkas had left Jorrvaskr when he had addressed his...problem. 

Vilkas squinted his eyes. Oh this was going to be far from idle conversation. 

“Well I was about to but Elriah’s checking Husk before we head out. So I helped Athis instead.” 

Vilkas grunted as he stood. Traveling had worn on his body, making him miss the quiet room and straw filled bed back home. All of the bags were accounted for other than Elriah’s, which was being worn by him. There was more than enough to get them back to Whiterun without having to stop to restock. 

“Good idea, get those wounds checked here and not out on the road. How is the whelp anyways? Haven't seen him around.” Ever since Husk had called Elriah his harbinger, Vilkas had been oddly absent in the camp. When it came time to patrol he was the first to cover the shift, as if ready for any reason to leave. Even now he didn't sound overly interested as he asked about Husk.

Farkas shrugged. “Haven't talked to him since breakfast. Seemed alright though. Nervous.” 

Athis kicked at the ashes in the camps old fire pit. He had already doused the fire as soon as light had crested the mountain. Normally they would have already left well before dawn, but with the newest Companion the light of day would help prevent him from tripping over stones he didn't see. 

“Aye, so would I with a wound like that. I believe Elriah when he says it's healed, but that doesn't mean he can't feel it.” Vilkas paused. “Think he’s worried about Aela?” 

“Nah I don't think so. We were talkin’ before about how many bears were around here. Maybe he’s just worried one’ll show up. Hey, I didn't know he could read, did you? Found him this morning with his nose dug right into one Elriah gave him”

Vilkas felt himself betray the uncaring tone he tried to keep as the topic suddenly changed. “Really? Surprising. I know he's a smart enough lad but still.”

“Yeah, the real kicker it's about dragonborns.” 

Oh. Vilkas’s neck flushed in embarrassment. 

“Guess you really did a piss poor job explaining it after all. Elriah got a good laugh out of it, told me aaaall about it.” Farkas was grinning with a brow raised as if daring Vilkas to argue. 

“Hmph. Well then, I should have brought a book on Ysgramor for the road. Husk would have enjoyed it.”

This caught Farkas’s attention. Books were almost sacred to his brother, and he made a point to never lend them out after losing one to a fellow companion’s clumsy hands. “You seem real sure about that.”

“He's an inquisitive lad, had more questions than I had answers.” 

“...you guys spent some time together, huh?” 

Vilkas glared at his twin, who’s face had fallen slightly from his question. It was said more like an observation, but there was a hint of concern behind it. Accusation perhaps. 

“Unless you forgot we were stuck here,” Vilkas said as he crossed his arms, head jutting towards the camp. “What, you surprised he asked questions?” 

Farkas sighed. Whenever his brother got defensive it almost always ended the conversation. “Why would it? Just surprised you want to lend him your...never mind, that's not what I came here for. He tell you anything about being a werewolf?”

“He didn't have to tell me, I saw him transform,” Vilkas’s eyes rolled. There was a sharpness to his voice, an unsaid warning.

Farkas frowned. “That's not what I meant.”

“I know it isn't, but that's as far as this is going.”

Farkas bit back a growl. For being the smarter of the two, Vilkas was a down right hardheaded ass. “Brother---”

“There you two are!” Elriah came out of the tent, Husk at his side after flinging open the tent's flap with an energetic toss. Elriah knew full well where the companions were. Vilkas held back a curse as his Harbinger grinned at them, a silent warning to shut up and stop their bickering. 

When the camp was sufficiently quiet Elriah’s head jerked towards Husk, eyes gleaming proudly. “Well? What do you think of our newest Shield-Brother lads?” 

Husk’s shirt was still long on his frame and hung down over green woven pants, held up with a thick belt about his waist. His hair was combed then neatly parted as the rest was tied back in a loose braid. The shirt's collar had been pulled up, covering the silver band from view.

There was no doubting the brightness that had flowed back into Husk’s skin with proper care. Even from yesterday there had been change. His eyes were brighter and there was no longer any hint of fear as he stood next to his new Harbinger, waiting for inspection. Even the burn seemed lighter instead of the blood red hue from before.

“Wow, you're starting to look not dead!” Farkas exclaimed. “Nice work Elriah.” 

“Farkas!” Vilkas hissed. Husk looked alive alright, and the braid showed more of his face, leaving no doubt that he was part elven. He elbowed his brothers side roughly.

“Aw he knows I’m only joking, right Husk?” 

Husk’s smile was answer enough, but he had the decency to pretend to be miffed. “It is a compliment as far as I’m concerned.” 

Elriah slung an arm around Husk’s smaller shoulders. Husk flinched instinctively, head ducking down. Elriah ignored it with a gentle shoulder pat. “It better damn well be! Do you know how hard this little beast’s hair is to tame?”

Vilkas raised a brow while Farkas laughed. 

“Well as I’ve said before and I’ll say it again. I will not have the Companions looking like wilderness ravaged bandits!” Elriah sighed exasperated at the very idea. He glanced down at Husk, giving him a small friendly wink. “We have an image to upkeep as noble warriors. Hard to tell on muck-eyed Vilkas over there- that reminds me, stop that its cringe worthy- but the rest of them are usually decent.”

Since the day he started as Harbinger Elriah had announced that there would be changes. Instead of being known as hirable drunkards they would re-earn the title of Companions. Elriah was one to pull a companion aside and force a rag into their hands if their armor got too dirty. The occasional razor left on a pillow was a clear sign someone needed to shave. Being dragged to the bathhouse? That was clear enough on its own. 

“I think it looks alright. Maybe if it wasn’t so think, still better than the blood war paint the silverhand used.” 

A disgusted noise escaped Athis as he walked over. “I would certainly hope so. Hear that Vilkas? You don’t look entirely terrible. At least not silverhand terrible.” Athis took his place next to Husk as he shot Vilkas a snarky grin. 

“I’m overjoyed,” Vilkas’s words dripped with sarcasm. 

Their leader rolled his eyes and adjusted the wolf armor on his back. “If you two are quite done, we should get going. Athis, stay with Husk. Try to stay in the middle Husk, it’s much safer but that way we wont accidentally leave you behind if you get tired. Farkas take up the back. And Vilkas, stay behind me.” 

The Companions all bowed their heads in response. Husk looked at them, eyes darting between each one before doing the same. 

“Cute,” Elriah chuckled and shook Husk’s shoulder lightly before letting go. “Don’t need to bow, they don’t either but for some reason they just wont stop.”

Farkas picked up his bag from the pile and threw it on roughly. He picked up Athis’s and tossed it to him, flinging the next at Vilkas the moment it was caught. Vilkas had to scramble to catch it, and growled at his brother the moment he finally had it gathered in his arms. 

Husk stifled a laugh. 

Athis however didn’t bother, letting his brother know just how funny his lack of coordination could be. He nudged Husk forward, making Husk jump ever so slightly. The dunmer only rolled his eyes and did it again, this time making Husk go forward and takings his place behind the Harbinger who had already started walking away. 

Husk swallowed. 

These were the Companions, and they were taking him to Jorrvaskr. A new home if he passed whatever test they gave him. Excitement and fear rushed through his veins as he followed Elriah; Athis close at his back. They had saved, fed, and clothed him, and now kept him in the safest part of the march. 

There were no more silverhand in that moment, just the open road and so many possibilities. 

Husk couldn’t wait.


	12. A room for the wandering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay of the new chapter! Life got busy but I never forgot about this story. Long story short I've been dealing with a brain tumor BUT the doctors think I have a very good chance! So let me welcome the new year with a new chapter! 
> 
> (it only took me a damn year or two to write it)

“Greatsword, they’ll cleave you in half,” Farkas challenged. 

“In the time it takes you to swing I’d have dealt at least ten wounds,” Athis shot back. “Daggers.” 

Husk raised a brow as the two companions bickered.  
This wasn’t exactly what he’d imagined. With the way Vilkas had spoken he’d been lead to believe that the Companions were stoic, their temper melded by honor, and minds hardened by battle. Yet so far all he’d heard were childish jokes and bouts of bickering. And at one point a hardy belch. Husk’s eyes flickered between the two in question. They didn’t miss a step, or an insult as they walked down the road. 

Husk wasn’t sure what to think of the conversation, let alone the companions. To be blunt he had never seen so many werewolves in one place. Let alone not in the process of tearing out each other’s throats. Husk almost replied to the playful argument, but instead bit his tongue. He opted to keep doing as he had, and listen. You could learn a lot that way, as he had found out before. And he still needed to learn more about the guild and how it worked. Finding out more about the people he traveled with would simply be a bonus. 

After all, the Companions were the most confusing people he had yet to meet. 

Husk had tried not to think too hard on the subject. Nonetheless the thought wormed its way into his mind. They’d rescued and helped him, but if he were honest he’d openly admit the hospitality seemed off. He had gone after one of their own. Where that should have been replied with deadly force he instead found himself thrown a large amount of unnerving compassion and understanding. The memory of attacking Aela played back in his mind. Even though it was provoked that wouldn’t stop anyone else from leaving him for dead. 

Instead they still came to his aid, and even welcomed him somewhat into their fold. 

Husk’s eyes fell on to each member as they went about their day, either unaware of his watching or simply electing to ignore it. Elriah commanded respect but without the force the silverhand used. Farkas, who Husk found himself growing fonder of, was intimidating yet friendly. Athis so far seemed willing to help, but Husk still found it hard to look past the dark elf heritage. Whereas when his eyes fell upon the silent brooder of their party Husk could only form the simple thought of: reluctant werewolf. Even the Companion he had known the longest was still confusing. 

“And lets not forget the short sword,” Athis continued.

Husk found his attention drawing back to the argument. 

“Oh shove the short sword! Then he needs a shield, and if that gets broke he’s as good as dead!” 

Of course the brooder chose that moment to turn his attention from the road. Vilkas glanced to Husk before jutting his chin towards the bickering werewolves. His eyes squinted in amusement behind the smudged war paint. “Welcome to the companions,” Vilkas mouthed. His lips twitched upwards.

Husk tried hard to suppress a smile. It won out in the end, clearing away the attempt at seeming serious. “Thank you,” he mouthed back. Husk tilted his head towards them, as Vilkas had done. There had yet to be a break in the stream of arguing. “Is this normal?” Their quiet conversation went wholly ignored by the party.

Vilkas nodded and shrugged his shoulders. “Usually.” 

Husk found himself keeping back a laugh as Athis all but angrily squawked a reply towards Farkas. All this because he’d asked was what weapon he should try.

Vilkas glanced back at the squabbling. “Aye, but a single strike of a greatsword is enough,” Vilkas spoke aloud. The two glanced up in false surprise. As if they really thought the other companion couldn’t hear their squabbling. “But it’s also heavy and will take more time to learn where as he’s already started learning with a dagger.” 

Husk cleared his throat. Not enough to be loud, but it certainly seemed to catch Farkas’s attention. Athis looked on curiously as the quiet member began. “Actually,” Husk carefully stepped into the conversation, “the dagger feels a bit...odd to hold. Like it could go flying right out of my hand.” He had been hesitant to speak, but his words were headed easily. The Companions listened attentively to what he had to say. 

Vilkas nodded as if Husk had simply commented about the weather. “It will feel that way for a while. Eventually you'll get used to it and perfect your grip. After that, the short sword will come naturally, then even possibly the greatsword.” 

A snort followed suit. “Greatsword? I thought you were supposed to be the smart one,” Athis scoffed. He jutted a hand impatiently towards Husk. “Vilkas we have both seen greatswords bigger than our friend here.” 

“Enough of that,” Elriah scolded half-heartedly. It was common for the Companions to argue, but Husk wouldn’t know that. He almost expected to see him worriedly watching the display. But to his surprise he saw Husk instead rolling his eyes at Athis’s retort. “You’re going to scare him off with all this weapons talk. At least let him get in Whiterun first.” 

A series of grunts and mumbling rose from the trio.

“As you say Harbinger,” Athis mumbled, disappointed at the ending of their game. 

Vilkas scoffed and rolled his eyes. He crossed his arms as he glanced over the other two companions in amusement, and mild humor at their reprimand. 

Elriah in turn raised a brow, smiling. “What was that Vilkas?” he asked as he turned around, yet again walking backwards.

Husk fell back into quiet as he watched the odd display. 

“I didn’t say anything, Harbinger.” 

“No, but I could feel the snark a mile away.”

Elriah turned his attention to Husk and gave a disarming smile. The expression was calm, a hint of softness around his eyes that showed no malice. “Why don’t you come up here for a bit? Less badgering.” 

Husk’s face fell uncertainly. It was a request; the tone hadn’t been anywhere near forceful enough for an order. For a moment his step slowed. Husk knew better than to refuse. He responded with a quiet nod. With a few quick steps he was side-by-side with his new Harbinger. Elriah praised him with a nod of approval and another smile before returning his attention to the road. 

Husk brightened at the praise. 

Behind them Farkas and Athis began to mumble again, throwing names of weapons and tactics at each other. Vilkas growled something back, and was quickly pulled into the rekindled argument. 

“Listen to them! It’s hard to think they’re from one of the most respected guilds in skyrim.” Elriah shook his head. For the complaint he seemed rather unbothered by it. His gaze swept over the path ahead calmly. “I Wish I could say they’re usually more…composed, but that would just be hopeful thinking. I hope you can put up with arguments, Husk.”

Husk huffed a bit of air out in a soundless bark of laughter. “That’s arguing?” 

“Sometimes they argue with their fists, though that’s mostly Njada. Anything farther than that’s an all out fight, and I don’t allow it. With that said, good point Husk. I’d say that was less of an argument and more of them showing off.”

Husk was amused at the though of the Companions trying to impress him with their knowledge of weapons. He easily relaxed. If the Harbinger didn’t allow pointless fighting then perhaps Jorrvaskr wasn’t as hellish as the Silverhand had lead him to believe. They certainly weren’t attacking anyone on the roads at least. “What do you allow?” 

Elriah blinked in confusion before turning to look at the newest companion. “That’s a rather open question Husk.” 

“Sorry”

“No, none of that now. What did you mean by that?” Elriah seemed genuinely curious. 

Husk tried not to groan. There were a million things such a question could hint at. Things as innocent as training time to as bloody as a human hunt. Out of the entire possible wording he’d chosen that. Behind Elriah’s patient smile twitched the visible arch of a worried brow. 

Husk’s nose twitched as a hint of worry drifted through the air. Apparently it reached the other companions as they glanced up, falling quiet, alerted by something other than the quiet tones. The back of Husk’s neck burned under the collar in dread and embarrassment. That was the wrong thing to ask. Now the Companions were watching him, even if the trio behind them pretended to fall back to their talk of swords. “The rules of…being a Companion I suppose.”

Elriah gave a real smile as the worry fell clean away. “Easy. Follow your orders, and don’t let anyone know you’re a werewolf.” 

Husk felt his lip twitch into a smile at seeing the Harbingers relief. He’d fixed it before anything could go wrong. 

Elriah’s face colored with knowing as he saw the tell tale look of relief. 

Husk’s smile instantly flipped into the look of a child caught red handed. 

“Ah! You meant the rules for werewolves didn’t you?”

“…Mostly,” Husk confessed. “Are there any, Harbinger?”

Elriah’s smile fell tired as he sighed. “Husk.” 

“Sorry, are there any Elriah?” 

“I was going to say you need to learn to just ask these things, but good catch. Though to answer your question no not really. You’re not allowed to go hunting alone, or attack innocents, but other than that you’re free to do as you will, as long as you mind the original rules that is.” 

Husk nodded slowly. The rules were incredibly simple and open. He almost thought it was a joke, and would have had it not been for the Harbinger’s knowing smile. Husk echoed it. “That’s…thank you. I’ll be sure to mind the rules then – not that I wouldn’t have other wise but…” Husk stopped his ramblings and cleared his throat. “When are we allowed to shift?”

Elriah glanced back at the Companions behind them at the question. His eyes fell on Vilkas who instantly stiffened, feeling his harbingers eyes. Elriah spoke louder as he answered Husk. “As long as you transform at least once a month out of the towns sight I don’t mind when. I’ve found ways to make sure you have, and if not I’ve been personally known to drag werewolves straight out into the wilds and leave them there until they do.” 

“That sounds mildly terrifying,” Husk slipped before he could silence the reply. “I mean a werewolf not changing for so long.” 

Elriah raised a brow, not convinced of the sudden cover up. He was kind enough to let it slip by. “It can be. It’s not as terrifying to find out though. Simple really, even fun. I simply ask Tilma to only cook half of whatever meat they’ll be eating. If they start on the rawer side first without thinking or noticing that’s usually a very clear indicator.” 

“How’d you find something like that out?” 

Husk found himself suddenly pulled back by Athis, who slung an arm over his shoulder. “Better question, how’d you get that chunk out of your back?” 

Husk was too caught up in surprise to notice the way Elriah’s eyes fell or the look that passed between he and Farkas. He found himself playfully shoving Athis away, just to have the elf latch on more and laugh – until Husk hooked a leg under his and pulled it out from under him. The elf went down with a thud. 

Husk paled as the Harbinger glanced back and stared at the openly laughing Athis who still was on the ground. A laugh forced itself through Elriah’s lips as he made an in vain attempt to stop it. Farkas reached over and nabbed husk next, giving him a noogie. 

Husk found himself smiling as he fell into the bustling playfulness of the Companions.

Maybe he’d fit in after all.

 

\---

 

“What's it like at Jorrvaskr?” Husk tested. 

The party had been traveling for well over an hour since last Husk had spoken. He’d fallen into a comfortable silence, taking in the world around him. Trees still rose tall above them though in the distance he could hear a mammoth, signaling they were getting closer to the edge of the hold.

Elriah smiled. The sudden curiosity for their destination was a welcomed change. “Comfortable. It's a large meadhall, as I’m sure Vilkas has told you. There’s always enough food, fellow shield-siblings ready to have your back, and usually decent music too until one of us gets drunk and tries to sing along.” 

“You mean our favorite howler?” Athis snickered in the background and put an arm around Vilkas. It was quickly followed by a thwack and a yelp. 

Husk bit back a snort. He could almost picture it, Vilkas drunk off his armored ass while belting a merry dirty tune. “Sounds wonderful,” Husk replied, coughing as he suppressed the laugh.

“I’d like to think so,” Elriah smiled. “The Companions are an honorable bunch, but there is never a dull moment with them, as you can probably already see.” Elriah continued. “Our training ground is right behind Jorrvaskr. Above that is the Skyforge. Under the main room of the hall is another area where we sleep...” Elriah hummed in thought. “Now that I think about it I’m not quite sure where we’ll put you.”

“He can sleep with the rest of the whelps, Harbinger.” Athis replied. “Don’t see a reason why he cant.”

Husk was left glancing between the two. 

Elriah shook his head. “No, that wont do. Not that I don’t appreciate the trust that is,” he added, offering a small glance of appreciation. “Truth is after the incident with Aela I’m not sure how that would go.” The Harbinger frowned slightly. “If nothing else the others might not want to rest near a stranger. Understandably.” 

The companions fell silent. 

Vilkas sneered. “And by that you meant after she tells them what happened, right? Her version, at least.“

Elriah raised an unimpressed brow towards the warrior. “Vilkas.” 

The Companion ducked his head slightly in acknowledgment but the glare never left his eyes. Thankfully he didn’t turn them towards the Harbinger’s way, and better yet at lest their leader knew who the glare was really for. 

“Apologies, Harbinger. I shouldn’t speak for you.” 

“No, you shouldn’t. But luckily for you that was my general line of thought. Less broody perhaps, but generally the same.” Elriah offered a smile.

Husk let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been keeping. 

Farkas however caught it quickly as a grin suddenly grew. A heavy hand suddenly landed on Husk’s shoulder – making him all but jump out of his skin. “Then put him in my old room!” Farkas suggested with a wide grin. “We can move the storage to the underforge. There’s enough room in the side cave.” 

Elriah turned to blink at his husband. That actually wasn’t a bad idea, and his approval flickered across his features. His brows rose in thought. “That…actually might work.” The Harbinger smiled in agreement as he gave a nod. “Very well. Husk?”

Husk had finally managed to calm his racing heart as he turned his attention to his new Harbinger. “Yes Elriah?”

“Look’s like you’ll be boarding across from Vilkas. Now we’ll need to go over the rules when we get to Jorrvaskr, but be prepared to have to deal with the possibility of the others disapproving. Most of them have been eyeing it themselves, but with you on your way to healing they shouldn’t be bothered too much.” 

Husk knew he should have smiled but a frown managed to tilt his lips anyways. He didn’t want to make enemies over a simple room before he even got there. Still, he forced a thankful smile and bowed his head slightly, much to the amusement of the Harbinger. “Thank you, Elriah. I appreciate the hospitality.” 

Farkas’s hand had never left the halflings shoulder. The giant warrior gave it a kind squeeze as he smiled down at the newest companion. “It’s your home now, remember? ‘Course its gonna be hospitable.” 

Husk yet again fell silent as his cheeks burned with the wide smile that had stolen away on his face. Jorrvaskr was his home. He smiled at the road as their pace continued. He couldn’t wait.


	13. Mead and Schemes

As it turned out putting the beast down would be far harder than the pair could have expected, but for now they were left blissfully unaware. Aela and Skjor sat side by side as they sharpened their blades, unaware of the closeness that had begun to form between their fellow companions and the feral they plotted against. 

But at least it was a comfortable day out in the training yard; giving them all the sunlight they needed to tend to their blades. 

Skjor pointedly ignored Tovar as the drunk drug his way tiredly back to Jorrvaskr. His usual leather armor bore heavy damage – but he won no sympathy from the eldest Companion.

Aela however had the decency to offer a nod in welcome. Her lips twitched slightly at the dozens of Skeever bites that covered Tovar’s arms and exposed sections of his legs. Strips of sheered leather hung halfhazardly – barely attached as they dangled in the breeze. The angry gouges stared back at her accusingly. From the basic wipe down he’d clearly tended to his wounds, but nowhere near as skillful as their harbinger would have done. 

“Fair well, brother?” Aela inquired, trying to hold back the grin. “Looks like it was quite the hunt.”

“Oh harhar,” Tovar grumbled. “Oh I faired well alright - faired so well I’ve probably only got witsbane insteada’ bone rot! Maybe even Ataxia.” The dirty-faced Companion glowered. “Just my luck…” 

“Not like you could loose much more wit,” Skjor teased under his breath. He didn’t bother to hide his own amusement. He tilted his blade to inspect his handiwork, smirking proudly. “Probably just a speck left anyways– on a good day.” 

Tovar shot a heavy glare towards the companion as he grabbed the thick wrought iron handles of the door. Given that they were in the back area of Jorrvaskr the doors were much lighter than the war ready walls that passed as entries in the front of the hall. After all only companions could access the area near the training space. At least now that Elriah had commissioned better defenses. 

In Tovar’s annoyance he forgot the difference in weight – causing him to slam open the doors so hard the nearby windowpanes threatened to shatter as they clattered and rattled in their frames.

Which would have gotten him yelled at, if the drunkard hadn’t froze and glanced around worriedly for their Harbinger, that is. 

Skjor laughed at the outright terror on the man’s face – and kept laughing long after Tovar had slammed the doors behind himself. 

Aela shook her head, grinning. “Something tells me you’ve been wanting to say that for quite some time.” Her tone hinted at approval. Even being the strong warrior she was there was no stopping the chuckle that escaped. “Couldn’t even let him in the doors first, for shame.”

“Yep,” Skjor nodded proudly. His grin showed a glimpse of sharpened teeth. “Finally got the chance to use it. On Tovar no less! Feels good to give the bastard a hard time. Wanted to make sure he heard it before he got drunk again - really put the salt in the wound. Or wounds as it would seem.”

Aela hummed in agreement. Her attention fell back upon her sword as she drew the sharpening stone over it’s edge. The sharp metallic hum was comforting, as was the voice of the fellow Companion. And of course the cold brew that sat on the table behind her helped. 

As usual the training ground was decently stocked. Newly stuffed training dummies stood tall and proud on their poles, daring the challenge of a fight. Even the archery targets looked new with the rope that made the spiral barely frayed. And to top it all off the wooden and blunted steel weapons in the nearby rack weren’t quite so slivered or dented. 

That was the difference, Aela noted, since Elriah had taken up the mantle as Harbinger. Kodlak had been a good man, and an even better leader, but with his illness he’d let Jorrvaskr slip dangerously close to the edge - giving people a reason to wonder if the Companions were still as proud and honorable as they’d once been. Elriah however had started to pull them back from the brink by just the second day as Kodlak’s personal healer. He’d swept the floors, washed the windows, all while giving Tilma the day off. Which left the companions stunned when they’d gotten back from their missions to find a spotless Hall waiting for them. But it hadn’t stopped there. He’d even scolded them. 

Aela’s smile fell slowly as worry once again filled her chest. Now their Harbinger was somewhere out there, with the werewolf that should have been put down on the spot. Her hand continued to guide the stone. Her worries didn’t subside as she tried to tame the cold flicker – reminding herself that Elriah was with Farkas and Athis. No matter what side Vilkas was on, they’d have the upper hand if- 

“Septim for your thoughts?” Skjor asked, a grin in his voice. “Might need it to replace your blade.”

Skjor’s voice pulled Aela from her thoughts – and into the realization she’d been practically grinding her poor sword into the stone. She growled out a curse, dropping the sharpening stone between them on the bench. “Great. Another reason for the Harbinger to have something to bark at.” 

Skjor raised a knowing brow. “Ah. You’re still expecting a lecture then.” It wasn’t much of a question. “Just even out the edge and it’ll be as good as new,” he added somewhat helpfully. 

Aela shook her head, bringing her sword to rest over her lap, pointing the hilt towards the fellow Companion. “No, not quite. After all he might have gotten his head bit off and realized I spoke the truth.” She ignored the advice. 

Skjor’s eye squinted. If he was annoyed by her words he didn’t let it show. Instead he tactfully refocused the topic, drawing away from their Harbinger. “Thought you were sure they’ll bring it here. Cant do that if he’s headless,” He pointed out. “If I’m honest a part of me hopes they do drag it back, not to discredit what you said but I’d like to see this beast for myself. Maybe fight it. Sounds like a formidable foe.” 

A flicker of pride flashed in her eyes as she turned her head to look his way. Her shining red hair tumbled over her shoulder. “There’s no doubt about that. When we found him I was certain you’d steal him for yourself to ‘train’ and ‘test his abilities.’” She grinned. “Out of the Harbinger’s sight, of course.” Aela finally chuckled warmly, shaking her head. In other words ‘fight’ and ‘hunt’ as much as possible, with bandits being the prime targets. “Knowing Vilkas he’d probably not be far behind, watching like the brooding hawk he is.” 

Skjor hummed in acknowledgment with a smile of his own. Though he didn’t reply, falling into a comfortable silence. His single brown eye fell upon his own blade, though his attempt at sharpening had fared better than Aela’s. His fingers thrummed over the hilt. “You say our champion brooder has taken a liking to him?” Curiosity colored his tone.

Aela huffed. “That’s putting it mildly. I can understand wanting to give the man a chance out of that Skeever hole, yet…” She trailed off. “You should have seen him. Tended to Husk’s wounds, managed to actually get a word out of him, never let him out of his sight…” Aela’s lip quirked into a slight grimace. “At least not until just before the incident. What worried me the most was how quickly he took to him. It just didn’t settle right with me. And how doting he was... it was unlike himself.” 

Skjor watched thoughtfully. He didn’t comment on the fact it was the first time she’d used the beasts name since telling the Harbinger what happened after her return. Ever since she’d always referred to the stranger as ‘him’ or ‘it.’ Occasionally the word ‘silver hound’ had managed to worm it way into their conversations. This however was the first time Skjor had heard the name in days. Which was good because he’d honestly forgotten it. 

“If the Harbinger hasn’t already taken care of the problem it sounds like it could be difficult to get a chance to. With Vilkas hovering it will be near impossible.” Skjor shifted in his seat, taking some weight off his aching knee. “My original plan was to lure the beast away, then report he’d gone feral and that I had to put him down. If he’s like you said it shouldn’t be hard to provoke him, but keeping Vilkas out of it however….”

 

Aela nodded. She hid her surprise at the fact Skjor was more than willing to lie to the Harbinger’s face. “If the Harbinger brings him back then that means he’s somehow won his trust. It’s not impossible to pull the wool over Elriah’s eyes, but at least he cant hold out an act for long.” 

Skjor gave a slow thoughtful nod. “Hm. And with how bullheaded Vilkas is even he’ll have to notice sometime. And when he does we’ll swoop in and take care of the problem.”

“Unless the Harbinger does first,” she pointed out. 

Skjor rolled his eye. The ghostly white blind eye stayed frozen in its socket. Skjor’s response was a rough clash of his shoulder into hers. “Now don’t go jinxing it yet. There’s still time before they get back. We can use it to plan.”

Aela echoed his smile and nodded, shoving him back. Not long after they sheathed their swords and followed Tovar’s example. Though they filled their tankards towards their plan that slowly grew between them in hushed whispers and bloody promises. 

 

\--

 

“It’s alright Husk, there’s still more than enough daylight left.” Elriah reassured. 

It was well past the Sunrise. Another day had passed by then, bringing the companions ever closer to home. Though now they were sitting beside the road on a fallen tree that had apparently been drug from the path sometime before. Or in the twin’s cases, they leaned against other trees that still stood.

Husk glanced up at the Harbinger looking guiltier than he should have, considering. “Sorry I’m holding you up like this,” he mumbled quietly. He’d taken a spot on the log, trying not to seem as tired as he was. Even his head was ducked a bit, though Elriah wondered if that was from exhaustion alone or a result of the Silverhand’s torment.

“Nonsense,” Elriah shook his head. “I told you to tell us if you were tired. If anything you’re a good excuse for a break.” The Harbinger grinned as he plopped down beside him. “After all this lot will take any excuse to crack open a bottle of mead. Isn’t that right, Farkas?” 

The Harbinger glanced pointedly towards Farkas – who paused, the drink raised halfway to his lips. “Huh? Need something?”

Elriah only shook his head, grinning. 

Athis had taken a spot on the other side of Husk, though left a comfortable distance between them. “And not only that, you’ve just been through Oblivion and back.” The dark skinned Elf pointed out. “Pushing yourself is commendable, but not if it winds up wasting more time. Think about it, if you tire yourself out too much you’ll slow us down.” It wasn’t a bad point to make – and Athis had a feeling guilt was the best way to get it across to their newest companion. “And for longer, too. Taking breaks like this just saves us time in the long run.”

Husk frowned a little but nodded in understanding. “Right.” 

“Right what?” Athis asked with a forced tone of curiosity. He ignored the glare from the brooder who stood a few feet away. He waited patiently. 

Husk offered a small nervous smile as a blush of embarrassment reddened his non-burnt cheek. “Don’t hold everyone up by pushing myself. Because a break wastes less time than going over my limit.” His tone almost sounded like a question near the end, though he caught himself quickly. 

Athis nodded sharply. “Good!” The dunmer grinned and brought a heavy hand onto Husk’s shoulder, giving it a shake followed by a friendly squeeze. “See? You’re already learning what being a Companion is all about. Pushing yourself to the limit without going over. It’ll do you good to remember that.” He nodded in approval. 

Husk smiled with a nod. He even looked pleased with himself as he committed the lesson to memory. 

Elriah shook his head with a soft smile as he pulled the rucksack off of his back and pulled out a canteen. He offered it to Husk who took it after a moment, nodding in silent thanks. 

“Thank you Harbin- Elriah.” 

Farkas glanced to his right towards his twin whose arms were tightly crossed. Although Vilkas tried to give off the impression he was watching the road Farkas could practically count all the times his brother’s eyes flickered back to the halfling. “Good lad,” he commented. He’d spoken quietly enough the others didn’t seem to take notice. 

Vilkas glanced Farkas’s way momentarily. Then blinked. Then glanced again but this time didn’t look back towards the road. “You say something?” 

Farkas grinned. “Yup. Said he’s a good lad. Polite.” 

Vilkas huffed, a slight scowl twitching onto his lips. Though as he gazed towards husk it faded into a slight smile. “Wouldn’t say servitude is polite persay but... he’s a good man. Just needs somewhere to plant his feet and call his own.” 

Farkas nodded in agreement. “And an actual bed. Elriah’s already planning what meals to make for him to get his weight back. Sounds so far like a lot of meat and potatoes. With snacks. Ria’s going to be jealous.”

Vilkas chuckled, glancing away from Farkas and back to Husk before looking at the road. He could still remember when Ria had fallen ill and had been utterly doted on by the Harbinger. And the look of dismay on her face the day she was given the all clear and realized she’d no longer get the Harbinger and his treats all to herself. 

“Aye.” Vilkas grinned. His attention returned to Farkas. “Njada is either going to put up a fuss or wind up helping Elriah just to speed the recovery so she can try to fight him.” 

Husk raised an unnoticed brow, but continued to listen. He handed the canteen back to the Harbinger. 

Farkas winked towards Husk while Vilkas checked the road. He knew he was listening in – but he wasn’t about to tell his brother that. “Think that’s a good idea? Y’know how rough she can get.” 

Vilkas scoffed. “Once he’s better he can fight whoever he wants. But if she tries to before then...? I’ll send her flat on her ass myself.” His face fell deadly serious with a curt nod, sealing the plan. Which of course made his brushy brows come together into a determined line. “And this time she wont get the best of me, I’ve seen through her tricks.” 

Husk pretended to clear his throat to mask the laugh. He even accepted the re-offered canteen back and took a swig. The expression didn’t quite fit the face of the man he’d gotten to know – which was why he found it so funny. As well as the picture of Vilkas being thrown flat on his ass by some opponent.

Elriah rolled his eyes. 

“And if Tovar tries to get him drunk…?” Farkas pressed curiously. He was fighting a smile that went unnoticed by Vilkas. 

“Then I’ll tell him where he can stick his mead. Husk doesn’t seem the drinking type.” It sounded like Vilkas was actually disappointed somewhat. “And unless the Harbinger says otherwise I wont let anyone force a drop until those wounds are fully taken care of.”

“But what if he wants some on the way back?”

“…A few sips wouldn’t hurt I suppose. Take the edge off,” Vilkas shrugged. 

Farkas grinned – as did his husband and Athis. They all shared a glance – which sadly Vilkas finally noticed. 

“What?” He demanded with a glare. His eyes squinted.

“Nothing Vilkas,” Elriah’s lips quaked as he tried to suppress his amusement. “Just go back to watching the road.”

Athis however wore his proudly. “Oh nothing at all!” He assured wistfully. “Just admiring our newest Companion.” He snickered. “You wont let anyone give him a drink but if he’d ask you’d hand it right over? Sounds like he’s won himself a new home and the favoritism of our broody Companion. Lucy isn’t he.” 

Vilkas stared deadpanned. Which of course made Farkas ‘Snrk’ as the realization stuck Vilkas – sending him glaring and growling under his breath before marching off. 

“I’m going to scout ahead,” he spat. He was utterly red from Embarrassment. “You layabouts stay here.” 

Husk feigned, or at least Elriah hoped, a look of hurt. 

And as if Vilkas had somehow known he paused to say, “You’re fine Husk. You’ve got an excuse,” before continuing quickly out of sight. 

As if on cue Farkas absolutely busted a gut as he laughed. He even wound up bending over holding his sides as the deep laugh shook the tree. Elriah wasn’t faring better as he shook his head, also laughing. And of course that left Athis who had wrapped an arm over Husk’s shoulder for stability as he joined in. 

“Did you see his face?” Elriah teased with a shake of his head. 

“I wont let him live it down,” Athis snickered in agreement. “Bastards gone soft on us. But watch – he’ll deny it to Oblivion and back!” 

Husk sat there only chuckling. Though his eyes smiled softly as he gazed at the ground between his feet. His chest was filled with warmth. Surely the ‘brooding’ Companion cared for everyone else the same. Husk couldn’t imagine himself being the only one. After all what had he done to deserve it? Still, the feeling stayed as he glanced up to where Vilkas had disappeared. “Is mead really that good?” He asked finally to spare Vilkas’s pride. 

The trio stared blankly. 

Elriah patted his shoulder mournfully.

“You poor bastard,” Athis agreed with his own echoing pat. He even closed his eyes and shook his head. 

Husk of course was left in utter confusion.


	14. ALL OF THE FANART!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Below is all of the fanart this story has amazingly gotten! I'm utterly floored and so appreciative of every single one <3 Jut knowing they exist and that someone too their time to read and then draw something of the fic is amazing to me!!!!

  
(Art done by Wastelands-Knight on DA)

 

  
(Art done by k1nd3r on Tumblr - warning their blog is NSFW)

 

  
(Art done by kree-katart on DA)

  
(Art done by chac-ozai on Tumblr - warning their blog is NSFW)

  
(Art done by an account that was sadly deleted from DA and I've forgotten the artists name))

 

  
(SUPER OLD ART done by me - but who is the bearded man with husk before his burns? I'll never tell mwhahahahaaha!)


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